#Seeing yourself in fiction step aside for the new king:

[mayasaura]

I realized I was experiencing psychosis because of Harrow, actually. I never would have considered that the symptoms I was having were psychosis, because I feel people think of it as something exotic and spooky and not something that could ever happen to them, if it weren’t for how much I related to Harrow. I went through HtN and highlighted a bunch of the lines you just posted to read to my psychiatrist because of how well they described my experience. In my heart Harrow has co-morbid autism and schizoaffective disorder because that’s what I have :) ❤️ these books also made me realize I was a lesbian so I’m convinced they’re imbued with some sort of witch craft

Damn, bud. These books were straight up written for you

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2023 - August

"Lamentations of Jeremias" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

A little tag to the end of Jeremias about how dealing with God sucks, and there's another one after this.

"The Miracle of the Lily" by Clare Winger Harris (1928)

Water yourself.

"The Conquest of Gola" by Leslie F. Stone (1931)

Why dudes gotta be like that.

"The Black God's Kiss" by C.L. Moore (1934)

Fuck. Yes.

"Space Episode" by Leslie Perri (1941)

Fellas, just step aside.

"That Only a Mother" by Judith Merril (1948)

You see it coming but still hits.

"In Hiding" by Wilmar H. Shiras (1948)

Okay things get weird and eugenicsy with this atomic supermen bullshit.

"Contagion" by Katherine MacLean (1950)

Again with the genetic supermen business. Maybe that's the intended effect?

"The Inhabited Men" by Margaret St. Clair (1951)

That's some good slow-burn space horror.

"Ararat" by Zenna Henderson (1952)

Oh no the superior beings are among us and better than us and will replace us, aka yikes.

"All Cats Are Gray" by Andrew North (1953)

See or not, they're there.

"Created He Them" by Alice Eleanor Jones (1955)

Rather be dead tbh.

"Mr. Sakrison’s Halt" by Mildred Clingerman (1956)

Get me outta here too.

"All the Colors of the Rainbow" by Leigh Brackett (1957)

God, this was a tough and necessary read.

"Pelt" by Carol Emshwiller (1958)

We're all a skin to someone.

"Car Pool" by Rosel George Brown (1959)

This style, holy shit. Getting into the stuff I came up with, the style of the gazed navel.

"For Sale, Reasonable" by Elizabeth Mann Borgese (1959)

Don't hire me.

"Birth of a Gardener" by Doris Pitkin Buck (1961)

You don't listen.

"The Tunnel Ahead" by Alice Glaser (1961)

I mean, what else to do?

"The New You" by Kit Reed (1962)

They'll bottle you up soon enough.

"Another Rib" by John Jay Wells & Marion Zimmer Bradley (1963)

Not so shocking now.

"When I Was Miss Dow" by Sonya Dorman (1966)

Be me be you be me.

"Baby, You Were Great" by Kate Wilhelm (1967)

If you can't connect then you learn to live with it.

"The Barbarian" by Joanna Russ (1968)

Fear of my tower getting breached.

"The Last Flight Of Dr. Ain" by James Tiptree, Jr. (1969)

Twelve monkeys origin story.

"Nine Lives" by Ursula K. Le Guin (1969)

Too many minds for a collective.

Twilight by David R. George III (2002)

Hefty story but it's good to go back to the old style of dealing with incomprehensible beings from other dimensions.

Are You Terrified Yet? by R.L. Stine (1998)

Not with this story. If Goosebumps 2000 is about aging out of monsters and supernatural stuff then I don't care for it.

Tick Tock, You're Dead! by R.L. Stine (1995)

Time travel shenanigans, my beloved.

"Mighty Max Trapped by Arachnoid" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Spiders don't scare me.

"Mighty Max Liquidates the Ice Alien" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Refractive weapons.

"Mighty Max Lashes Lizard" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Squirt.

"Mighty Max Traps Rattus" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Traps you.

"Mighty Max Outwits Cyclops" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Poke 'em.

"Mighty Max Tangles With the Ape King" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Just take over.

"Mighty Max Slays the Doom Dragon" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Does he though?

"Mighty Max Grapples with Battle Cat" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Bring them back.

"Mighty Max Squishes Fly" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Narshty.

"Mighty Max Blows Up Dino Lab" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Science outfits are slipping.

"Mighty Max Stings Scorpion" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Big means not poisonous.

"Mighty Max Crushes the Hand" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Win the duel!

"Mighty Max Escapes from Skull Dungeon" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Smasher, really?

"Mighty Max Conquers the Palace of Poison" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Flees from it, eh.

"Mighty Max Sinks Nautilus" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Time has ravaged your once youthful looks.

"Mighty Max Caught by the Man-Eater" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

The final frontier.

"Mighty Max Bytes Cyberskull" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Stay off the computer.

"Mighty Max Terminates Wolfship 7" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Go away aliens.

"Mighty Max Survives Corpus" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Get aHEAD in DEADvertising.

"Mighty Max Against Robot Invader" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

He invade.

"Mighty Max Zaps Beetlebrow" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Quick work.

"Mighty Max Crushes Talon" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

See into the bone soul.

"Mighty Max Out-Freaks Freako" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Wergh, some kinda phobia.

"Mighty Max Rams Hydron" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

I said let 'em take over.

"Mighty Max Versus Kronosaur" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

They just do what they do.

"Mighty Max Challenges Lava Beast" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

I doubt the veracity of flesh to fire.

"Mighty Max Tangles With Lockjaw" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Well, some last words at least.

"Mighty Max Defeats Vamp Biter" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

In the sun.

"Mighty Max Fights Nuke Ranger" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Not a place of honor.

"Mighty Max Pulverizes Sea Squirm" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Die native fauna.

"Mighty Max Battles Skull Warrior" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Go home, you're drunk.

"Mighty Max Hammers Ax Man" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

It's a tool!

"Mighty Max Hounds Werewolf" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Awoo.

"Mighty Max Neutralises Zomboid" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Flesh of my flesh.

"Mighty Max Defeats Battle Conqueror" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

I kick you.

"Mighty Max Head to Head With Hydra" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Two in one.

"Mighty Max Melts Lava Beast" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Delicious java.

"Mighty Max Strikes Fang" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Grab the tail.

"Mighty Max Shuts Down Cybot" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Always an off switch.

"Mighty Max Shatters Gargoyle" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Tap tap tap.

"Mighty Max Assaults Skull Master" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

You'd lose but you do it anyway.

"La-Mulana" by KC Green (2023)

Hyuck.

"Mental Health Marge 2 Da Rescue" by ossian (2019)

Listen 2 da TV mom.

Theater Camp dir. Molly Gordon & Nick Lieberman (2023)

I took a theater class one semester of high school, along with a final play at the end, and that is an intense type of person to hang around with. But I liked that there's a subset of member who just does, like, building sets and stuff, because it me.

Never Say Never dir. Baoqiang Wang (2023)

So... signing shady contractual obligations with children is okay if you're giving them something to do?

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem dir. Jeff Rowe (2023)

This feels the most like playing with action figures out of any TMNT thing which makes it the most appropriate interpretation.

Meg 2: The Trench dir. Ben Wheatley (2023)

Not enough sea creecher.

Ransomed dir. Kim Seong-hun (2023)

I enjoy the sociopathic killer who could be in a boy band genre from South Korean cinema, and this is right in there.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter dir. André Øvredal (2023)

A fine Saturday afternoon on broacast TV sorta movie.

Jules dir. Marc Turtletaub (2023)

Got some aliens this month, and this one is a charming little story about how aliens can't save us from our bodies' inevitable betrayal.

Strays dir. Josh Greenbaum (2023)

A good road trip to set the soul afire.

Blue Beetle dir. Angel Manuel Soto (2023)

Lots of good details, but it still shakes out as a generic superhero movie of our age.

Gran Turismo dir. Neill Blomkamp (2023)

I saw this 1.5 times after the first showing failed halfway through. You know where it's going and, you know, sports movie gonna sports.

birth/rebirth dir. Laura Moss (2023)

Hey! That's it, the jam, the good stuff. A high-end version of my beloved anthology horror.

Landscape With Invisible Hand dir. Cory Finley (2023)

The other aliens movie of the month is more in the po-mo style of commentary on our societal ills. I look forward to this feeling quaint in 20 years.

Porco Rosso dir. Hayao Miyazaki (1992)

Damn, TaleSpin really do be like this. But I'll just take it as more fun anthropomorphized adventures of the air and sea.

The Wind Rises dir. Hayao Miyazaki (2013)

Ghibli's contemplative looks at Japanese culture and history are some monumental works.

Retribution dir. Nimród Antal (2023)

That's your final guy? Shoulda been someone else.

To Live and Die in L.A. dir. William Friedkin (1985)

That's some good 80s vibe I tell you what.

Tales from the Crypt - Seasons 5-6 (1993-1995)

Okay, alright, things are starting to sag a bit after the peak of seasons 3 and 4. Not a show to binge watch. But I still want a super cut of Cryptkeeper intros and outros.

[cafeacademia]

His Favourite Gal | Part 1

Mob!Bucky x Shy!Reader

Summary: You begin working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little do you realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with its quirks and you’re slowly pulled into the mobster life.

Warnings: Fluff, some mentions of drunk people, mentions of crimes (though nothing happens, it’s just mentioned).

Word count: Approx 3700

Navigation

A/N: Hi loves!! This is a remaster of my own original fan fiction that I’ve decided to take from my old blog and (hopefully) improve. I’ve been slowly remastering fics that I am particularly attached to and I worked quite a lot to get this one overhauled and rewritten!! There’s actually very little of the original writing left, it was interesting to see how different my style is now compared to three years ago! This was also my first ever series I’d ever written on my old blog, so aside from the fact that I love the story, it’s special to me in that regard. Enjoy! 💕

If you’d like to join my taglist, you can do so using my taglist form HERE

It was raining when you finally finished your shift three hours later than when you were supposed to be off for the night. It was tiring working for the dingy old bar, it looked just as sad on the outside as it did on the inside, the old brick discoloured, old panelling slowly peeling off the sides of the building. It was a wreck and so was your boss too. He couldn’t have cared less if you worked yourself down to the bone, as long as he had staff doing a job, he didn’t care.

“I’m expecting you tomorrow, we’re opening early.” He had told you on your way out and it took everything in your willpower not to groan and roll your eyes and tell him so eloquently to fuck off. It was almost a relief when you heard the heavy metal door slam behind you as you stepped out of the back entrance. The air was just as bad. It was thick with smog and cigarette smoke and something pungent, an overflowing bin or perhaps an unfortunate street animal, you thought.

You were glad when it began to rain harder. At least it seemed to make most of the drunkards along the main strip try to find shelter instead of bothering you on your walk home.

Pulling your jacket hood up, you stepped down from the doorway and made your way out of the alleyway and onto the back street. It was never good to walk home alone, especially at night and especially in the part of New York you lived and worked in. It was on the edge of mobster territory and while Bucky Barnes, the King of New York owned it, it didn’t mean it was safe at all. It was quite the opposite, the district was prone to all levels of crime, from pickpocketing all the way up to armed robberies, arson and shootings.

But, you realised as you walked up the street, spotting a group of drunk men up ahead, drink men with rifles too, that never ended well, that perhaps mobster territory might not be a bad idea, especially when there were people working for Barnes along the entire street and they were known to keep the peace.

You heard the casino before you saw it, but as you rounded the corner you saw the lights, the late night rain distorting some of the huge party lights that lit up the sky above the building. Stark’s was not the most prestigious club in town, but it was the most respected and most feared. And funnily enough, for a place called Stark’s, the billionaire did not own his own named club. As far as you remembered, you’d seen it in the papers a few years ago that Barnes had won it off Stark in a game  of poker. You’d never know if that was really true, but it definitely seemed plausible.

As you passed the casino, you glanced over towards the dark tinted windows, watching as people came and went, mostly men in suits. But you noticed a sign from across the road that was taped onto one of the windows, huge bold letters making you stop in your tracks for a moment.

Waiting staff needed. And you stared at it for a moment, contemplating. You… A bar waitress, surely it was not wise for you to sign up to work in mobster territory. That would definitely land you in more dangerous places than you were already in.

But the longer you stood there and thought about it, you began to wonder if it was actually a good idea. You could at least try, what did you have to lose? And before you could even come to a full decision, it was as it was made for you, because a group of rowdy men walked towards you and you immediately took the decision to cross the road, putting you right in front of the casino.

How bad could it be? The worst that could happen was that you just had to return back around the corner to your miserable little bar job. So, with a sigh, you grabbed the flyer and walked towards the entrance.

The bouncer was huge and intimidating. Of course, you had expected as much with the club having the notoriety that it did. It wasn’t long before you were allowed to enter, the bouncer telling you, “speak to Natasha at the bar”, and as you headed through into the casino, you assumed the absolutely stunning woman behind the bar right ahead of you was Natasha.

The club was bustling with people, though it was not as stuffy and loud on the inside as you had expected it to be. There was a clear divide between people dining and drinking at tables around the bar and the casino side of the club which appeared to be behind a velvet rope and deep burgundy red curtains at either side of the bar. It was far more high end than you had expected, seeing as the outside of Stark’s resembled a kind of fancy nightclub, but you supposed the King of New York did happen to own it.

“Are you here about the job?” The woman at the bar asked as you approached her. You wondered if it was your very casual clothing in such a formal setting that gave you away or the flyer in your hand. Either way, you suddenly felt very intimidated and very underprepared. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. You were a girl dressed in the dregs of your wardrobe while trying to get a job in the most respected club in the entire city. Not likely.

“I saw the advertisement outside, I hope that’s alright.” You said as you lifted the flyer in your hand and she held out her hand to take it from you. “Are you sure? We haven’t had many applicants because of certain activities.” She told you, but you knew what she meant, it was obvious. This part of town, even outside of mobster territory was swimming in crime. “I’ve got nothing to lose.” You replied. And it was true, you did have nothing to lose. No family, no responsibilities outside of your current job, which this would replace, no children, no pets, no side hustles. Nothing. And that probably made you a good candidate.

The woman smiled at you, her lips curving up into a smirk as she took a moment to look you over before she extended her hand across the counter. “Natasha.” She introduced herself, smiling as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” You mirrored her smile and gave her your name before she let go of you. “Let me just get someone on the bar and we’ll talk.” She told you.

And moments later, you were following Natasha through the casino, passing by all of the business men, mafia family members and rich men and women who were chancing it at gambling games. Suffice to say, you felt even more out of place than you had done just moments beforehand.

“Where do you work right now?” Natasha asked as she let you pass her into an office near the back of the building. “I work in an old bar just around the corner called The Rabid Dog.” It was not a pleasant name, it always made you cringe whenever you had to tell people where you worked and you didn’t fail to notice the way that Natasha seemed amused by the name of the bar too.

“So you’ve done bar work? What about waitressing?” She asked as she gestured for you to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Natasha didn’t sit behind the desk, instead she just dropped down into the chair next to yours and rested one leg over the other as if she was having a casual conversation with a friend. “My bar serves food, so I do it on a regular basis and I also used to work in a restaurant a few years ago.” You explained, but before either of you could say anything else, the door swung open and you nearly fell out of your chair.

“Who’s this?” Bucky Barnes, the King of New York himself asked as he walked through the doorway. What had you walked into? You knew he owned the club, but you’d never expected to actually meet Barnes. “This is our new waitress.” Natasha said proudly as she stood. You knew better than to interrupt, but you gathered that someone must have noticed the look of confusion on your face because just as a second man entered the room, he said, “Does our new waitress know she’s the new waitress?” The second man asked. He was blonde, just as tall and muscular as Barnes, though he looked at you with less of a poker face and more of an amused smirk.

“Really? You just hired her like that?” Mr Barnes asked as he approached you. “I like her.” Natasha countered, both men giving her pointed looks, though Mr Barnes raised his brows and nodded before turning back towards you. “She likes you.” He repeated what Natasha had said. You couldn’t help but send Natasha a questioning glance. She had just met you minutes ago and she’d already analysed you enough to know that she liked you and you wondered if Natasha was much more than just a bar girl.

“Have you done waitressing before?” Barnes asked. “I just asked her that.” Natasha huffed. “Yes sir, waitressing and bar work.” You responded. “And do you have any family?” He asked next. “No sir, none at all.” You replied. “And you know this isn’t the type of job cut out for ordinary people, right? This club sees a lot of things.” Mr Barnes went on. “I do, sir.” You nodded.

“Buck, maybe we should consider-.” But Mr Barnes casually held up his hand to silence his friend. “You’re hired.” He announced, the entire room falling silent and all you could do was stare at Barnes for a moment, stunned that he had just hired you right there on the spot. “I am?” It came out a little more hushed than you had intended, Bucky nodding as he smirked at you. “Whatever your pay is at your old job, I’ll pay at least double, more if it’s not enough. Natasha will contact your old boss and get you ready for your first day.” And with that, Bucky Barnes and his friend left the room and Natasha looked over at you, watching as the astonishment slowly dissipated.

“I’ll let you know when you start work.” Natasha broke the silence and you glanced over at her. “Just like that?” You asked, still surprised. “Just like that.” She responded. “Don’t worry, Barnes wouldn’t keep me around if I wasn’t a good judge of character.” She winked at you and you wondered again if she was something more than just a bar girl.

The job, you realised after your first couple of days working at the club, was far more interesting and a lot more rewarding than your previous job at the old bar. The club was a scene for all kinds of happenings and while nothing nefarious really went on, especially under Bucky Barnes’ nose, you did overhear an awful lot of conversation.

You learned as well in those first few days, that while this was not where Mr Barnes resided, he used the club as a place to carry out some of his business meetings and discussions as well as a place to relax.

Barely a week into your new job, you were getting ready for your shift in the little back room. Lockers lined the walls with a mirror at the side of the door and comfortable benches in the middle of the room. Dressed in a simple, but pretty black dress, you tied the strings of your little demi apron at the back, though you paused, a little startled when the door was abruptly pushed open and Natasha stepped in.

“Barnes needs you.” Nat announced with urgency and you frowned at her. “He does?” You asked. “He needs someone to waitress him and the family tonight, he’s asking for you.” She informed you. “I thought-.” “Yes, I know normally we have security taking orders to the waitresses, but he’s personally asking for you to waitress them tonight.” Nat told you and you paused with a slight air of confusion about you. “Alright, I’ll waitress Mr Barnes then.” You nodded, quickly fumbling with the ties of your apron before you shoved your jacket a bit more firmly into the back of the locker and shut it properly, letting Natasha walk you through the club towards the private dining space they were occupying.

Nat rushed you into the room and closed the door behind you, leaving you to stand rather flustered in front of a cosy looking dining room with a round table in the middle. Bucky was sat at the furthest end of the room, his chair seeming to have a higher back than all of the others. At his left was Steve, who you’d been properly introduced to on your first day at work and on his right was Sam Wilson, who you understood was a very close friend of his.

“Sugar, you made it.” Bucky enthusiastically greeted you as you approached the table. You hoped that you didn’t appear too flustered and intimidated, but you were aware that there was only so much you could play off with smiles when you knew your eyes might give you away. “Good evening Mr Barnes, gentleman.” You nodded, finally taking a step into the room and approaching the table, receiving polite hellos and smiles from all of them. “Are you looking after us tonight?” Steve asked, sitting forward in his seat and casually leaning his elbows on the table. “I am, Mr Rogers.” You nodded, lifting your notepad and pen as if it were proof. “Allow me to introduce you to everyone.” Bucky waved you over to him and you took a few steps towards him as he went around the table naming everyone. It was quite easy to distinguish that the people sitting closest to Bucky were of more importance to him as he listed Clint and Scott, who seemed to be his security and Pietro who appeared at first glance to be a mentee as well as the rest of the group.

“C’mere sweetheart.” Bucky motioned you to come and stand next to him once they were all done ordering food and drink. You stood where he’d pointed to and he turned in his seat to face you. You felt your cheeks warm intensely as Bucky smiled up at you, his eyes so soft and sweet and you questioned for a moment how exactly this man was the King of New York. He was incredibly sweet looking and for a moment you found yourself melting on the spot. “Is that everything, Mr Barnes?” You asked. “Not quite, sugar. Add whatever you’re having to the list, it’s on me.” He grinned at you. “I – uh, sorry?” You asked, a little confused. “Are you sure, Mr Barnes?” You hesitantly met his eyes though you immediately broke eye contact. “Absolutely, please eat with us, doll.” Bucky’s voice went soft as he tilted his head back a little to see you better, his lips pouting ever so slightly. “As you wish, Mr Barnes. Thank you.” You smiled at him, speaking softly before jotting your meal on the notepad and rushing out of the room.

You nearly bumped into Natasha as you made your way towards the kitchen. “He wants me to eat with them.” You blurted out before even making your presence known. “He what?” Nat frowned. “Mr Barnes wants me to order my food and drink and eat with them.” You repeated, more calmly this time. “Really?” She looked at you wide eyed. “Does he not do that with other waitresses?” You questioned, ripping the order out of the notepad and handing it to the kitchen staff. “No, he’s never done that before, never requested it either.” Nat shook her head. “Are you sure?” You surely couldn’t be the only one he’s ever asked. “I’ve worked here every night for three years and not once has he ever requested that.” Nat said with a single raised brow. It was definitely unusual. “I’ll get someone to call for you when the food’s ready. Let me get their drinks together.” She told you, waving you away before she went to look at the order you’d brought in.

You waltzed into the private dining room with a large round tray balanced expertly on one hand. The glasses on top gently clinked together as you walked. Handing out their orders, you took your drink last. You noticed quickly that all the men around the table had shifted and there was now an empty seat next to Bucky. “Come and sit with me, doll.” He patted the empty chair. Steve hopped up to pull it out for you and you obliged, gently sitting yourself down in the chair and turning slightly to face him. You didn’t want to assume you could speak unless spoken to, so you politely kept quiet while Bucky noticeably studied your face. “Tell us about yourself, sweetheart.” He smiled, sitting back in his chair as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

“I’ve been around and lived in a few different places. My parents passed several years ago and it’s just been me ever since, so I moved back to Brooklyn.” You did appreciate the soft look on Bucky’s face as he listened to what you said, almost like he felt sorry for you. Before you could continue though, Bucky rested his hand over yours and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, truly I am.” He spoke just above a whisper. “Thank you, Mr Barnes.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Call me Bucky. We’re with family, which means we’re all on a first name basis, alright?” Bucky gripped your hand gently. “Alright, Bucky.” You nodded, mirroring his smile.

You told him more about yourself and for a moment, Bucky seemed anything but a mobster. He asked you about the books you liked to read and talked to you about the subjects that seemed to make your eyes light up and your smile a little wider. As the evening drew on, you became comfortable enough to share a few timid little jokes, which elicited chuckles and laughs from even some of the most scary looking men around the table. One of them, Drax, who was terrifyingly huge and angry looking, clapped his hand over his chest and roared with laughter the first time you told a joke, which completely took you by surprise. What surprised you more was how easy it was to make Bucky laugh and how down to earth and sweet he was.

By the time everyone had eaten and spent some time drinking and chatting and enjoying themselves, you had warmed up to all of them, especially Steve, Sam and Bucky. All of them though, were soft and charming on the inside, showing you a side to them you were unsure anyone else in the club was ever going to see. They were intimidating on the outside, exuding a terrifying confidence, but on the inside they were all sweet and gentle and caring and it absolutely melted you.

And after you had said goodbye to all of them and made your way back to the locker room, Clint, one of Bucky’s closer family members, followed you in. “Barnes wants me and Scott to make sure you get home safe.” He told you. “He’s requesting we give you a lift back in his SUV.” Clint added, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his middle. It definitely seemed unusual, especially to be personally driven home. As far as you were aware, not even Natasha, who seemed very close to the family was ever given a lift home. But then again, judging by her reaction to Bucky wanting you to dine with them earlier, you supposed this was all rather new for them, just as much as it was for you. “Alright.” You nodded as you opened your locker, pulling off your apron and putting it away before you took out your jacket and bag, quickly getting them both on before letting Clint escort your towards the back exit.

“Hey doll, hope you don’t mind the spontaneous ride home.” Bucky grinned, far too pleased with himself that he was having his men not only drive him, Steve and Sam home, but also you. Of course it meant he had a longer way home, but Bucky didn’t care. Seeing you all off to your houses was important to him and why seeing you off specifically was important, Bucky was starting to wonder why.

After sliding into the SUV and getting comfortable on the soft, plush seats, you were driven home with gentle, quiet chatter between Bucky and Sam, Steve joining in occasionally until you arrived at your apartment building.

“See you the day after tomorrow, sugar.” Bucky smiled, leaning towards the open door to speak to you as you got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride home.” You waved at all of the men in the car, Scott getting out to escort you up to the front door of the building, the car waiting until they had seen you safely into the building and the door shut behind you.

Sitting down in your bedroom, safely back in your apartment you laid down in the soft blankets, replaying the evening in your head, realising you were smiling to yourself when you remembered that Nat had said no one had ever been asked to dine with Bucky and his family before. It brought warmth to your cheeks as you settled in for the night, looking forward to your next shift at Stark’s.

Bucky Taglist (OPEN):

@losers-official @barneswidow​ @megantje123​ @anchoeritic​ @struggling-bee​​

[mianavs]

Queen of Peace

Oh, the king / Gone mad within his suffering / Called out for relief / Someone cure him of his grief

His only son / Cut down, but the battle won / Oh, what is it worth / When all that's left is hurt

“Queen of Peace” by: Florence + The Machine

knight!Osamu x queen!reader, royalty/historical au, forbidden love

tw: smut, oral (f!receiving), breeding, angst (of course)

a/n: a super self-indulgent fic inspired by the aforementioned song, a fanart of knight!osamu i reblogged a while back, and my undying love for historical fiction; tagging: @hqintheclub​

ty: all my love to @rosesandtoshi @oneblonded​ and @liaslight​ for taking the time to beta read this!

wc: 6.3k+

bg: Kingdoms are named after regions in Japan (ones mentioned to are Chubu, Tohoku, Kanto, and Kansai). These kingdoms are then divided into provinces which are named after Japanese prefectures (Hyogo). Haikyuu schools are used as titles of nobility (Duke of Fukurodani, Marquess of Itachiyama)

The roar of the blowing horn broke you out of your trance; it’s thunderous cry signaled the arrival of the King and his soldiers. Your heart swelled with relief, and you swiftly set aside your needlework before leaving your rooms to greet them. Your ladies, who sat around you in a semicircle with their own needlework, mimicked your movements and fell in line behind you as you exited door after door before finally reaching the main corridor.

“Don’t you wish to change into a different gown, Your Majesty?”

You paused at the sudden inquiry from one of your ladies and glanced down at your simple black gown. “We are still in mourning. This gown is more than appropriate.”

You resumed your trek to greet the King leaving the other ladies who took it upon themselves to reprimand the one that had interrupted you. While you would never show it, you were relieved that you still had some semblance of control over your ladies despite your unpopularity amongst the courtiers. An unpopularity that had plagued you ever since you left Hyogo five years ago by order of the Kansai King to marry the widowed King of Kanto.

With each step you took, unease swirled in your navel and your throat tightened. It’d been a long war against the neighboring Chubu kingdom. One that had taken their king and your kingdom’s heir.

Prince Shoyo had been the King’s only child by his beloved first wife, a Tohoku princess, and his pride and joy. Nicknamed the ‘Kingdom’s Sun’, he had been admired by his peers, respected by the Council, and loved by the people. Even you, his stepmother despite being of age, had found comfort in the amiable prince who had never treated you unkindly. The news of his death had sent the kingdom into a panic and the courtier’s scrutinizing eyes once again fell on your stomach that had yet to swell with child.

“My Queen, are ya unwell?”

The turbulent thoughts that had clouded your mind the entire way to the palace’s front entrance cleared the moment that rich accented voice resonated in the foyer. There in the middle stood your childhood friend and sworn sword that had made the journey to a foreign kingdom without you asking, Osamu Miya.

You instinctively gravitated toward him as if tethered to his armor by an invisible string that pulled you closer, until he was just an arm’s length away. His thick brows knitted together and a frown was etched on his face as he studied yours. You offered him a small smile that might’ve fooled anyone else but not Osamu who knew you better than anyone. He pursed his lips but, nonetheless, went down on one knee, took your hand, and pressed a chaste kiss on the back of it. The warmth that radiated off of his touch and kiss spread like honey over your heart and soothed your nerves.

“I am fine,” you replied when Osamu rose to his feet and took his place on your left. “We should go. The King must not be kept waiting.”

Beneath your grief over the loss of Shoyo, there had been a flicker of hope for a renaissance in your marriage; your already precarious position depended on it. If you could only give the King an heir, then you wouldn’t be seen as the useless foreign queen anymore.

So when you steeled yourself against the autumn chill and saw the King’s banners billowing in the wind, you were determined to lie with your husband for the first time since your wedding night. Even when the old King struggled to dismount his horse, cursed his bad leg, hobbled over to you, and patted your head with the affection usually reserved for a daughter instead of a wife, you plastered a warm smile on your face while your hands fisted the skirts of your dress in frustration.

“Welcome home, My King,” you greeted with your deepest curtsy. “A humble feast is being prepared to celebrate your return. The official mourning processions will begin tomorrow.”

At the mention of mourning, the King’s mouth set into a hard line while his eyes glazed over. “You have worked hard, Y/N. Thank you.”

“Your Majesty is too kind. I am merely doing my duty.”

The King’s greying brow furrowed at your mention of duty before nodding once. “Of course. I am afraid my leg will not let me attend the feast, but I trust you will be there in my stead.”

“You can rest assured that I will be the most gracious host, My King.” You replied, hiding your disappointment over the news of his absence. Like all things involving you, the King was oblivious and continued his labored tread to the palace.

It was only when the King was outside of your field of view that Osamu, steadfast and true, asked after your well-being.

“Are ya alright, My Queen?”

You could feel his steel grey eyes burning the side of your face but kept your gaze fixed on the King’s ghostly trail.

“Of course,” you replied but neither of you believed it.

The welcome feast went by as you’d expected. The war-weary soldiers ate and drank their fill but there was none of the merriment and banter that usually filled the dining hall. The King and Prince’s absence weighed heavily on everyone’s mind including yours, so any conversations that took place were done in hushed voices that didn’t travel beyond its participants.

Yet it seemed that even the soldiers fresh from battle and with a plethora of personal issues already plaguing them had enough time to worry over the lack of an heir. Their eyes occasionally flickered over to your empty womb with varying degrees of concern and disappointment. When they became too into their cups and their stares more shameless, you wiped your mouth and excused yourself from the feast to a chorus of half-hearted ‘goodnights’.

Even in your rooms with your ladies readying you for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the burdening stares of the feast. So after your ladies finished and excused themselves for the night, you wrapped yourself in a thick robe and made your way to the King’s chambers on the other side of the palace.

Heavy footsteps echoed against the stone floors and you didn’t need to look back to know who it was.

“I do not need an escort, Sir Osamu.”

“It’s late, My Queen. Ya shouldn’t go off wandering by yourself even if it’s to see the King.” Osamu retorted, disapproval lacing his words.

You turned around to face him. “I am trying to do my duty.” You informed him and fixed him with a hard stare.

“So am I,” he declared and moved closer until you saw the determination and something else reflecting off his grey orbs. You knew better than to argue with Osamu when he was being stubborn, so you let out a defeated sigh and resumed your walk to the King’s chambers with your knight in tow.

The two guards outside the King’s door announced you before the King gave his approval. The large mahogany door opened and you walked in, ignoring the knowing stares of Osamu and the other two. You knew your bold actions were improper, but you were done waiting for the King to make the first move. Strengthening your resolve as you walked through the antechamber, you straightened your back and took a deep breath before entering the King’s bedchamber.

The room was dimly lit while the stench of liquor and medicinal herbs permeated the air. You spotted the king sitting at his breakfast table; one hand around an empty glass and the other buried in his thinning locks of hair. As you made your way to him, the moonlight shone on his aged face and reflected the tears that stained his cheeks. It was only when you sunk into a low curtsy that he noticed your presence.

“My King,” you greeted demurely. “I came to…see how you were doing.”

It was a lie, but seeing the King devastated with grief cracked your determination. The King glanced up at you and your heart clenched painfully at the sight. He looked lost with bloodshot eyes, trembling lips, and a furrowed brow.

“M-my son,” he croaked, voice dripping with sorrow. “My Shoyo…is gone.”

Tears blurred your vision and you rushed forward to embrace the desolate king. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed his head against your chest and mourned the loss of his son together.

In the end, your plans were for naught. You helped the drunken King to his bed and stroked his hair until he fell into a deep slumber. It was then that you should’ve left his bedchamber to return to yours, but you couldn’t find the will to do it. Gossip would run rampant in the palace the next morning, and your reputation would only get dragged through the mud for being a useless queen that couldn’t even seduce her own husband.

So, on a whim, you removed your robe and tossed it on an empty chair before lying next to the King.

You woke up at the crack of dawn and left before the sun’s rays spilled into the bedchamber. Throwing one last glance at the sleeping king, you offered him a silent apology before retrieving your robe and exiting his chambers.

The same guards from the night before greeted you with a bow, but Osamu was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring the strange pit in your stomach, you wished the guards ‘good morning’ and set off to your chambers. On the way, you passed by scores of maids, manservants, and guards who looked at your attire and exchanged looks. It was all proof that your ploy had been successful, and you made the long walk back with your head held higher and your back straighter than ever before.

But the satisfaction from your triumph was cut short when you found Osamu in your antechamber. He appeared agitated as his eyes swept over your appearance, lingering on your mussed hair and thin shift. Under his heavy gaze, you became conscious just how scantily-clad you were dressed and wrapped the robe tighter around your form.

Osamu approached you until he stood next to you, facing the door. Heat radiated from his body and enveloped you in it until it seeped into your bones, sparking something in the pit of your stomach. You could have stayed there for hours just basking in the warmth of his presence, but he spoke and broke your trance.

“Did ya get what ya wanted?” His cold tone was ladened with judgement and it bothered you beyond reason.

“Yes,” you admitted. “For the most part.”

His head whipped in your direction but you kept your gaze fixed on the door leading to your bedchamber. You could almost hear the opening and closing of his jaw, but instead of asking his question, Osamu walked out of your chambers, leaving you alone with your bittersweet triumph.

Just when you dared hope for a brighter future, your world fell apart with the death of the King just two days after Shoyo’s funeral. He’d been dealt a deadly blow by a wild boar during a hunting trip and passed away before a physician could arrive. It was the explanation the mob of courtiers offered you, and before you could wrap your head around the situation, a voice piped up amidst the courtiers.

“The King is dead! Long live the Queen!”

A couple of moments passed before a weak chorus echoed that call, falling to one knee in the process. Their declaration should have filled you with joy, but the conflict on their faces as they exchanged looks only added to your already perilous situation.

The late King hadn’t even been in the ground for a day when the Council called for a meeting with you, the acting ruler of the kingdom. Exhausted as you were by the funeral processions as well as your new duties as regent, you mustered all your strength and courage before the impressive double doors of the throne room opened, and you were announced.

“Her Majesty, the Queen!”

The smell of cologne and musk filled your nostrils as you walked into that room full of critical men ready to tear you down like a pack of wolves. Your crown felt heavier than usual and your neck ached, but you continued until you reached the dais and lowered yourself unto the cold throne.

Rearranging your skirts, you looked up to find the leader of the faction that opposed you opening his mouth to speak. Unwilling to be shamed so early into the meeting, you spoke first.

“Let us begin.” You turned to one of the dukes of the neutral faction, “What is the topic of this meeting, Your Grace?”

“The matter of succession, Your Majesty.”

You bit back a sneer. You knew this discussion would take place sooner rather than later, but you couldn’t help feeling amused by their impatience in limiting your time in power.

“As a foreigner, you must not be aware of the importance of an heir with royal blood flowing through their veins.” A member of the opposing faction spoke out and the insult was not missed by anyone in the room, including you. Fueled by indignation, you placed a hand over your stomach and watched surprise flash across each of the faces in that room.

“After five years of living in this kingdom as your queen, I am perfectly aware of the importance of a Kanto heir. The late Prince Shoyo might be gone, but a direct heir could very well be growing inside me as we speak!”

The room broke out in an uproar between the factions. The men exchanged glares, insults, and accusations that went beyond you and into the deep-rooted political ideologies that separated them. Agitated by their emotional outburst, you were about to call for order when a voice from the opposition beat you to it.

“Gentleman!” Kotarou Bokuto, the Duke of Fukurodani, spoke up and stepped out of the crowd. “Let us convene on the matter at hand.”

His golden eyes brazenly met yours the way they always had during your prior reunions. His display only showed that he had no more respect for you than when you were just queen consort and you did your best to hide your embarrassment.

“A course of action regarding the future of our kingdom must be adopted.” The leader of the opposition declared, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smirk. “A time limit must be placed for the Queen to see if she is indeed with child. If the Queen does not show the signs of pregnancy after the allotted time period, I believe we should decide on an heir here and now!”

“And who, pray tell, do you deem worthy of being declared the Kanto heir if the blood of the late King is not growing in my womb?” You inquired despite already knowing who they would name.

“The Duke of Fukurodani, as nephew to the late King, would be the most suited for that title.”

“That is only if the Queen is not carrying the late King’s child.” From the crowd of the neutral faction, the Marquess of Itachiyama, Kiyoomi Sakusa, stepped out and bowed to you before re-addressing the opposition. “A trial period of six months should be an adequate amount of time to see if the Queen is with child.”

Muttering filled the room as the factions debated Sakusa’s proposition amongst themselves and with each other before the room settled and the leader of the opposition spoke once again.

“The factions accept the time period suggested by Itachiyama and the declaration of Fukurodani as heir if, and only if, Your Majesty is not with child.”

They presented this to you as if you had a choice in the matter when in reality, all you could do was agree to their conditions with a smile like the powerless ruler you were.

“Very well. The matter of succession has been settled and this meeting is now adjourned!” You declared, gazing across the room to find a pair of gleaming golden eyes already on you.

Your resolve was crumbling like your future as queen and your relationship with Osamu. It’d been less than a week since that heated encounter in your chambers and the two of you had yet to discuss the emotions that had fueled it.

As your sworn sword, Osamu still carried out his duties in accompanying you everywhere you went, but there was now a divide between the two of you. It was that divide that stopped you from actively seeking him out to confide in him the way you had over the last ten years of your friendship.

The meeting with the Council had been the last straw regarding your newfound loneliness and as soon as the two of you left the throne room, you turned to Osamu.

“We need to tal—”

“Your Majesty!”

Kotarou Bokuto’s booming voice called out and you turned around to find him followed by his advisor and close confidante, Keiji Akaashi, approaching you from the throne room. He was resplendent in the navy-blue and gold colors of his duchy and walked with a confidence that was befitting of his station—perhaps even more.

“Would you be able to set aside some time for myself and Akaashi? We’d like to discuss some things with you.” His friendly manner of speaking had fooled you long ago, but you knew better now and regarded him with skepticism.

“Pray tell, what exactly do we need to discuss?” You asked, unable to hide your annoyance at being interrupted.

“I’m sure you already know what it is.” Akaashi interjected and you thought it was about time the real mastermind behind Bokuto spoke up.

“Watch your tongue!” Osamu growled, taking a protective stance in front of you. Akaashi held his ground for a moment before backing down and you placed a hand on Osamu’s shoulder. He peered down at you with brows knit and his mouth twisted into a confused frown. You offered him a reassuring look and nodded once before he stepped aside. Turning to Bokuto and Akaashi, who regarded you with mild amusement, you offered them a forced smile.

“Follow me to my office, gentlemen. We will be able to talk at ease there.” You said and led them through the palace to the late King’s office that had been taken over by you.

Once inside and settled at the sitting area in the middle of the room, tea was brought up and served for you and the two men seated across from you. After taking a sip and wetting your tongue with the mild brew, you set down your cup and gave the gentlemen your undivided attention.

“Well then, I suppose you wish to discuss the succession?” You stated, cutting straight to the chase.

“We have a proposition for you, Your Majesty.” Bokuto replied, crossing his arms across his chest. “One that could very well save you from ruin.”

“Oh, how so?” You asked, feigning indifference while clasping your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“When your trial period is over and it is proven that you are in fact not with child, I would be willing to make you an offer of matrimony. Think about it, you could avoid returning to your kingdom a disgraced bride and continue being the queen—my queen.”

His proposition was beyond anything you’d imagined and a heavy weight set onto the pit of your stomach. You should’ve been outraged. You should’ve thrown them out of your office for even suggesting such an outrageous thing. You should have said anything except what you ended up asking.

“And this…arrangement would benefit you, how?”

“Despite what you may think, I believe you have done a wonderful job as the late King’s consort. I have no desire to take a risk with another woman when you are already the dutiful and reserved woman I am looking for.”

His words came out as compliments but all you heard were disparaging remarks about your person that left a bitter taste in your mouth. You turned to Akaashi to see if he was actually in agreement with the outlandish things Bokuto was spouting only to find a pleased smile gracing his lips. You sat there aghast as you realized Akaashi had no doubt been the one to plant the idea into Bokuto’s head. A shiver ran down your spine as the magnitude of Akaashi’s ambition manifested itself in the shape of the Kanto Kingdom’s throne. While it was true you weren’t the perfect queen, you refused to let yourself be used by anyone else and decided to take matters into your own hands with the help of your closest ally.

“I am afraid you will have to find someone else to be your duchess, Your Grace.” You unclasped your hands and laid them daintily over your lap. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much work to do.”

For your plan to work, time was of the essence. The first chance you got to escape the endless paperwork you were stuck with as ruler, you dismissed your ladies and walked into the forest on the outskirts of the palace grounds with a silent Osamu following you. Deep within the forest was a grassy clearing with a flattened boulder in the middle that resembled a bench. It had become your sanctuary since your arrival five years ago that only you and Osamu knew about. While you had been too busy since Shoyo’s death to pay it a visit, you couldn’t think of a more adequate place to deliver your treasonous request to Osamu and see it through.

The vibrantly colored autumn leaves that adorned the trees had started to fall and created a blanket of deep red, burnt orange, and golden yellow on the ground that crackled with each step you took. Like the trees, you were determined to shed your old reservations to make way for the new risks you would take to be the master of your own fate. Taking in a ragged breath and drawing your woolen cloak closer to your form, you turned around and faced your devoted knight.

“Before anything else, I have something to confess to you. The King did not touch me that night. He fell asleep and I-I stayed the night.” Your voice thickened with emotion as you watched Osamu’s steel grey eyes widen with each word that fell from your lips.

“I thought that by making everyone else believe he did my reputation at court would improve. But now the King is gone and my womb is empty despite what I have told everyone including Bokuto.”

“I-I don’t understand wh—”

You rushed to him and took his gloved hands into yours. “You know as well as I do that returning home as a disgraced bride is not an option for me. In the best-case scenario, I will be stripped of my status and sent into exile with only the clothes on my back.”

“W-what are ya trying to say?” Osamu asked and tears welled up in your eyes from the worry that laced his voice and showed on his face.

“What I am asking of you is a dangerous, treasonous, and immoral thing. It is selfish of me but I am unable to come up with another solution. I will not demand anything of you. If you are not willing then we can forget that any of this happened for my punishment will be delivered in six months’ time.”

“Y/N, please, what do ya want from me?”

“A child. I-I ask that you give me a child to save me from ruin.” Tears fell from your eyes as you closed them, unable to look at Osamu after voicing your treacherous request.

Osamu said nothing. For a long stretch of time the only sounds you could hear were the whistling of the wind, the rustling of leaves, and your thundering heart. Dread washed over you the longer your childhood friend remained silent. Your breathing became strained as a lump lodged itself into your throat. You kept your eyes closed to avoid seeing the scorn that no doubt showed on his face.

“I’ll do it.”

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, and you saw no contempt from the man before you. He looked at you as if you were the most precious being in the world. All your fears were dispelled when he raised your hands and pressed your knuckles to his lips. Instead of the comforting warmth his chaste kisses usually brought you, this kiss set your skin ablaze and a flush traveled all the way up to your face.

“Th-thank you, Samu.” You whispered, noticing the small smile that graced his lips at your use of his nickname. “I promise you that no harm shall ever come to you from this. This is my sin and mine alone.”

“Y/N, I have to t—”

“We have to be quick about this.” You interrupted and retracted your hands from his grasp to start working on the ties of your robe. Then just before the garment could fall to the ground, Osamu caught it with his hands. You looked up to find disapproval etched on his face while something darker lurked in his stormy eyes that sent a dull ache to your core.

“Not here. I’ll do it but not here.” He said resolutely as he pulled your robe over your shoulders and went to work fastening the ties. “You deserve better.”

You wanted to challenge him on that. You wanted to remind him that what you wanted to do was treason. You wanted to brand yourself as a harlot because that was what everyone else would’ve called you. But Osamu’s fingers were as gentle as his gaze while he worked and all you could manage was a whispered ‘thank you’ as you blinked away a fresh set of tears.

The two of you agreed on that night. You would dismiss your ladies and Osamu would guard your door alone that night. Then when the palace was asleep, he would join you in your bedchamber to carry out the task and return to his post before anyone took notice. It was hardly a fool-proof plan, but it was a risk you were willing to take as you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Despite that belief, panic creeped under your skin as you sat in your antechamber on the cushioned bench beside your window. You tried working but you were unable to focus and left the pile of paperwork at the table. You even tried picking up your needlework only to prick your finger enough times to draw blood while completing a couple sloppy stitches. In the end, all you could do was wait for him while pressing on your bleeding finger—a miniscule punishment for the enormous transgression you were about to commit.

 A singular knock broke your reverie. You rushed to open the door and pulled Osamu into the room before closing the door behind him.

“Was there anyone lurking nearby?” You asked, still holding onto his hand.

“No one, My Queen.” He replied, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

“Call me by my name,” you insisted before pulling him along to your bedchamber.

Except for the dim light from a couple of candles, your room was dark and you found that you preferred it that way. It was easier to forget your shame under the cover of darkness. You led him to your bed before you sat on the edge and waited for him to make the first move—except he didn’t.

“We do not have much time, Samu.” You breathed and glanced up at him only to find a pained expression on his face that made your blood run cold. “I-Is something the matter?”

“Before we start, I’ve something to confess.” He admitted and the creases on his brow deepened. “The reason I followed ya here five years ago and agreed to do this is because I-I love ya.”

His confession reverberated off the stone walls and echoed in your ears. You sat motionless on the bed while your mind revisited all of your interactions to try to make sense of his words. It didn’t take long for you to come to the same conclusion after thinking back to the gentleness of his words that never waned, the adoration in his eyes every time they fell on your form. You also recalled the worry he’d shown for you after Shoyo’s death and the dark emotion you could now recognize as jealousy that had swirled in his orbs after returning from the King’s bedchamber. It was then that you unlocked a hidden box of emotions toward Osamu. The immense comfort you felt in just seeing him. The warmth that spread whenever he pressed kisses to your hands. The ache in your belly when his eyes would darken with what you now knew was desire. They were all emotions you had never felt towards anyone except Osamu and you finally knew why.

“I love you too,” you revealed, not just to him but to yourself as well. “I-I think I always have.”

He released a shaky breath before gently cradling your face in his rough hands. Even in the flickering candlelight, you could still make out the unadulterated love behind his gaze. It was a love that had always been there, lurking beneath loyalty and honor, but at the same time, it was also new and filled you with excitement at the prospect of experiencing an emotion you’d renounced on your wedding night.

Osamu leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours and his nose was just a hair's-width away. He released a ragged breath that fanned over your face and caused goosebumps to rise over the expanse of your skin. You breathed him in, his scent a mixture of earthy musk and leather that you wanted more of.

“C-can I kiss ya?”

His question came out in a strained husky voice that ignited a flame in the pit of your stomach, and you answered by pressing your lips against his tentatively. A moment passed before Osamu took the lead and parted your mouth with a swipe of his tongue on your lower lip. You had never known what a kiss felt like and Osamu was more than willing to teach you. He explored your mouth and groaned in approval when you reciprocated. His kiss stoked up the flames burning within your core. An overwhelming need to close the distance between you rose and your hands found purchase on the hem of his tunic before they delved underneath the coarse material and made contact with his skin.

He broke away from your mouth with a hiss. “Wait,” he panted. “N-not yet.”

Before you could ask Osamu what he meant, he knelt down and pressed a loving kiss to your ankle. A furious flush spread across your face, down your neck, and underneath your thin shift. His eyes drank in your reaction and you felt him smile against your sensitive skin before traveling up your leg, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

When he reached your inner thigh, he sucked on the flesh and you clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle a moan. He pressed a soft kiss on the spot before repeating the same process on the other leg. By the time he marked your other thigh, both of your legs were trembling and desire pooled between your legs. 

You felt him move again and panic tore through you as you bunched up your shift to see if he was doing what you thought he was—and sure enough, he was.

The protest on your lips was replaced with a heady moan when his tongue flattened over your slit and moved up until it reached a spot you were well-acquainted with. It was the spot your fingers would travel to late at night after having a little too much wine before bed. You quickly discovered that your clumsy fingers were nothing compared to Osamu’s mouth that alternated between sucking and flicking at the engorged flesh with his hot tongue.

His calloused hands trailed up your thighs and spread them apart while your hands pressed against the mattress to steady you. Just when you felt your release building, he surprised you by slowly pushing one of his digits inside of you. What had once been uncomfortable on your wedding night was now a tantalizing sensation that only increased with each finger Osamu added and dragged against your fleshy walls.

You quickly came apart on his fingers and mouth, your entire body shuddering as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Panting and flushed, you peered down to find Osamu’s mouth twisted into a grin and covered in your release. The sight was as immoral as it was entrancing. It was a sight you never wanted to forget; one you wanted to keep for yourself. At that moment, you knew exactly what you wanted and decided to take it.

You took off your shift in one swift movement and tossed it to the ground, your eyes never leaving his. As he worked on removing his own clothing, you crawled back onto your bed and watched him with hungry eyes. When he was as bare as you were, he joined you and settled between your already parted legs.

He looked big, but then again, you weren’t really sure what could be considered big, having long forgotten the only other one you knew. Tearing your gaze from it, you looked up at Osamu to find a silent question on his face. You broke into a smile at his concern and nodded your consent. Leaning one arm next to your head, he drew your lips into a passionate kiss before lining himself up and slowly pushing inside of you.

There was a mild sting but nothing compared to the pain of your wedding night. When sheathed himself completely, you wrapped your legs around him and whispered into his ear.

“I love you.”

Your words seemed to spur him on and he groaned into your ear, pulling out only to fill you up again. He made love to you in deep languid strokes that opened you up to a whole new world of sensations. Each stroke, each press, each kiss, built up another release and all you could do was drag your nails down his back and meet his thrusts with your own.

Your second release was even more potent than the first. You cried out and threw your head back onto the pillows while Osamu quickly reached his. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his groans as he filled you with his seed—a sensation you’d never experienced before—and held you even after he’d given you everything he had.

For the longest time, all you heard was the evening of your breaths and the synchronized beating of your hearts. You ran soothing circles over the scratches you’d given him while he pressed sweet kisses to your cheek, neck, and shoulder. In the aftermath of your lovemaking, it was so easy to forget titles and circumstances. You were just two lovers on that bed and there was nothing you wouldn’t give to make it a reality.

Unfortunately, your life was anything but a fairytale, and you shifted beneath Osamu who seemed to get the message.

“I should go,” he murmured but not before pressing another kiss to your lips. One that you were more than willing to reciprocate. It was not nearly as long as you wished, but you held back a whine when he ended it and climbed off your bed. You drank in the sight of him underneath the pale moonlight as he slipped on his tunic and breeches, remembering how the planes of his body had felt against your hands, legs, and torso. As he laced his boots, you looked around the room for your shift only to find it on the floor at the foot of your bed. You shifted only to feel the sticky and wet residue between your legs and froze on the spot.

“C-could you hand me my shift?” You asked, just as Osamu rose to his feet fully clothed. “I do not want to risk—”

“Of course,” he replied before you could finish. He picked up the thin garment and brought it to you while pressing a kiss on your temple. “Sleep well, Y/N.”

It was just a glance, but you saw his grey eyes flicker to your bare stomach before swallowing and leaving through the door you’d pulled him through earlier that night. Your fingers ghosted over your navel and you wondered if he wanted it just as much as you did. After slipping on your shift, you pressed your legs together and lied back down while thoughts of a child with your looks and his character filled your head until sleep overtook you.

The six months of your trial period came to an end with little to no backlash from the Council. The neutral faction led by Sakusa watched you with satisfied expressions as you made your way up to the dais while the opposing faction grumbled amongst themselves but didn’t challenge you outright. You saw Bokuto and Akaashi with smiles that didn’t meet their eyes and responded by placing a protective hand over your protruding stomach that was still quite noticeable despite your loose-fitting gown.

Your attention was drawn back to the throne before you thanks to the gentle squeeze on your left hand. Turning slightly, you saw the hint of a smile on your knight and lover’s face and let his presence soothe you in the way it always had. So with Osamu by your side and his child growing inside your womb, you sat on the throne and watched over your subjects with your hand resting on your stomach as they shouted:

“Long live the Queen!”

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #159

Today on Fate and Phantasms we bring you the outlaw star himself, Assassin of Shinjuku! As always, it’s hard to go into detail about Sassyshin’s abilities without giving away his identity, so true name spoilers below the cut.

Check out his build breakdown below, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Wait a minute, I thought King Arthur was a girl!

This build blends Yan Qing’s Shadow Monk techniques with the Doppelganger’s shapeshifting, here represented by the Whispers Bard levels. Kill people, steal their identity, repeat!

Race and Background

Technically Yan Qing is part ghost, but it’s a lot easier to call him a Variant Human instead. If you really want to lean into the doppelganger thing Changeling’s right there, but then you won’t get +1 Dexterity and Charisma, Acrobatics proficiency to jump up entire castles with ease, and the Observant feat to show off why they call you the Skillful Star. This feat gives you +1 Wisdom, the ability to read lips, and you get +5 to your passive Perception and Investigation scores so your disguises are a bit more detailed.

Of course you get the Criminal background, giving you Deception and Stealth proficiencies.

Ability Scores

Speaking of being the Skillful Star, all that martial arts training should make your Dexterity pretty freaking high. After that is Charisma, you’re really good at disguises, and almost as good at making convincing arguments. Almost. After that is Wisdom for more skill and more observational skills. Your Constitution isn’t half bad, you can take a lot of damage and keep going. When you’re fighting against Guda. When you’re actually on their team, that’s a different story. Your Strength should probably be a bit higher, but it’s not very useful for the build. Finally, dump Intelligence. Sassy-shin is many things to many people, but Himbo is definitely one of them.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Starting with monk will help you get your shirtless scenes going earlier thanks to your Unarmored Defense giving you an AC based on your dexterity and wisdom. You also get some Martial Arts, letting you use dexterity instead of strength when fighting, giving you a minimum of a d4 in damage when using unarmed attacks, and you can attack as a bonus action if you attack as an action.

On top of all that, you also get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves as well as Athletics for even better climbing skills and Insight, because you can’t manipulate people if you don’t know what they want.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Ki points each short rest equal to their monk level. Currently, that lets you Dash, Disengage, Dodge, or Attack Twice as a bonus action, but more stuff will come up as we go. Your Unarmored Movement also lets you move just a bit faster while shirtless.

3. Bard 1: Your impersonation powers come from the doppelganger, a fictional creature (also you’re fictional, but hush), so bard’s as good as any class to get their powers from. Grabbing bard second gives you Perception proficiency for even more detailed disguises, as well as Bardic Inspiration. Right now they’re a pool of d6s that recharge on long rests. You can hand out to allies to help them with their d20 rolls-checks, saves, attacks, all that good stuff. Unless your DM somehow incorporated C. Stars into their game, this is one of the closest ways you have to get the actual Skillful Star skill in D&D.

Beyond that, you also learn a couple Spells that use your Charisma to cast. Light helps your dumb human eyes see in the dark and also do the glowy hand thing. It won’t actually help with damage, but it looks cool, and that’s what’s really important. You also get Vicious Mockery, tbh stealing the memory of an enemy’s loved ones means you can get some really disturbing insults.

For first level spells, grab Bane for more insults, Disguise Self for a cheapo disguise that doesn’t even work physically, Longstrider to press your speed advantage further, and Heroism, because you’re a pretty nice guy when you put aside the identity theft.

4. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half your proficiency bonus to checks that you’re not proficient in, even making you a little bit faster by boosting your initiative bonus. You can also use a Song of Rest to add a d6 to the healing your party does over a short rest. I mean, you’re a character in a novel, you’ve got to have some good stories to share, right?

For your spell this level, grab Speak with Animals. Working with Lobo is always rough, but at least now you’ll be able to tell his “I’ll tear you limb from limb” bark from his “I’ll tear you limb from limb later” bark.

5. Bard 3: Your doppelganger side grants you the power of a bard from the college of Whispers. When you join the college, you can use your bardic inspiration to create Psychic Blades, adding 2d6 psychic damage to a weapon attack once per turn. I’ve given up trying to figure out if hitting things with your hands count as weapon attacks, so maybe just keep a knife on standby.

You also learn Words of Terror, spending a minute alone with your target to force a wisdom save (DC 8+proficiency+charisma mod) or they become frightened of a creature you choose for up to an hour or until it or an ally takes damage where it can see you. You can use this once per short rest, and if they succeed on their save there’s not tell that you did anything. You also get Expertise in Insight and Deception to make your disguises flawless.

Your spell this time is Enhance Ability, making you even better at whatever you set out to do by giving you (or another creature) advantage on one kind of ability check. For those of you playing along at home, this means you now have a +8 to deception checks, with advantage. Even without your disguises, you’re already doing pretty well for yourself.

6. Bard 4: But “pretty well” isn’t perfect. We can do better. Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the Actor feat, rounding up your Charisma for extra inspiration and stronger spells. You also get advantage on deception and performance checks to act as a different person, no spells required. On top of all that, you can mimic the speech of a creature you’ve heard talking for at least a minute, requiring a contested Insight check vs your Deception check to figure things out.

For those rare times you’re trying to be yourself, you can also use Friends to get advantage instead. When that inevitably backfires, use Mirror Image to create some shadow clones for an easier escape. The spell makes three copies of yourself, and when you would get hit by an attack there’s a 75% chance it will hit one of them instead. After they take a hit for you, they pop, reducing the odds of blocking the next attack. MI is technically UA, but it’s not exactly a massive power boost.

7. Bard 5: Fifth level bards see their inspiration dice grow to d8s. While that doesn’t affect your psychic blades, your Font of Inspiration does, letting you recharge inspiration on short rests for more consistent support and damage.

You also learn how to Feign Death to escape any criminal/detective duos on your trail. Admittedly this isn’t as effective as disguising yourself as a civilian, as it basically knocks you out for an hour, giving you resistance to most types of damage and prevents any sort of effect from diseases or poison.

8. Bard 6: The sixth level of bard is where our plan really comes together. No, I’m not talking about Countercharm, get that shit outta here. We’re here for the Mantle of Whispers, letting you steal a humanoid’s shadow when it dies nearby once per short rest. Using their shadow, you can create an hour-long disguise that not only makes you look like the person, but gives you information they would give away to acquaintances. Creatures can see through the disguise with an Insight check against your Deception check, but you get a +5 to that, on top of everything else.

9. Monk 3: Stealing peoples’ identity is nice, but it’s time we got back to punching good. Third level monks get their way, and Way of Shadow helps you take advantage of Shinjuku’s oppressive atmosphere to make the town your own. Your Shadow Arts lets you cast spells like Darkness, Darkvision, Pass without Trace, or Silence using your Ki points. You can also cast Minor Illusion to take your stealth to the next level with some free distractions.

Besides all that, you can Deflect Missiles, catching them out of the air to reduce damage and possibly even throwing them back as a reaction.

Now that you have a bunch of things eating away at your Ki points, you can use your Ki-Fueled Attack to attack as a bonus action if your main action uses your Ki. Now nothing can stop you from delivering those hands.

10. Monk 4: Been a while since your last ASI, huh? Use this one to boost your Dexterity for a better AC and stronger attacks. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction, reducing fall damage by five times your monk level. As Moriarty could tell you, falling off a skyscraper hurts.

11. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack each attack action, and you can turn those attacks into Stunning Strikes by using Ki. If the target fails a constitution save all attacks on them for the round have advantage. Great way to fish for crits for your psychic blades.

12. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-empowered Strikes, making your unarmed attacks magic against resistances. You’re a Tier-3 character, you’ll probably need this.

You can also use your brand new Shadow Step to teleport between shadows as a bonus action. Moving so quickly also gives you advantage on your next attack.

13. Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like using Phantasmal Killer to create a more offensive shadow clone. For up to a minute one targeted creature needs to make a wisdom save. If they fail, they’re frightened and at the end of each turn they have to make another wisdom save or they take psychic damage.

14. Bard 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma again for stronger spells and inspiration. You can also use Freedom of Movement to escape from impossible binds. Just disguise yourself as a free person, I can’t believe nobody thought of this before.

15. Bard 9: Our last level of bard charges your Song of Rest to a d8, and you get a fifth level spell. Mislead lets you move so fast enemies will have to hit your afterimage, simultaneously turning you invisible and creating an illusion of yourself.  The illusion lasts for an hour, but you only stay invisible until you attack or cast another spell. It can speak or gesture just like you, and you can even see through its eyes.

16. Monk 7: Seventh level monks finally get Evasion, turning your dex saves into supersaves. Now your failures deal as much damage as your successes, and your successes avoid all damage entirely. Your Stillness of Mind also lets you shut down effects that are charming or frightening you.

17. Monk 8: Use your last ASI to bump up your Wisdom for a stronger AC. Technically grabbing more Dexterity would be better here, but I like rounding stuff up more than capping it out. Makes room for DM stuff.

18. Monk 9: Your Unarmored Movement Improvement lets you run up walls and over water, so long as you don’t end your turn there. You can finally climb up that huge freaking castle you’ve been eyeing for a while!

19. Monk 10: Tenth level monks get a Purity of Body that makes you immune to disease and poison. At least this isn’t your capstone?

20. Monk 11: As an eleventh level shadow monk gets a Cloak of Shadows, letting you disguise yourself as a Vashta Narada as an action, becoming invisible in dim light or darker. This lasts until you attack, cast a spell, or leave the shadows. I’m pretty sure this qualifies for that whole “cast no shadow” thing you’re always going on about, right?

Pros:

You are the one true imposter. With advantage as well as +21 to all your deception rolls to disguise yourself, you’re pretty much undiscoverable. On top of that, you’re also great at reading people with a +15 to insight. The only person doing impressions around here is you, thank ya kindly.

Like all monks, you’re really fast, with 50′ of movement speed, dash options, teleporting options, and ways to make yourself even faster via magic. You go down harder than the KT event, but you’re fine as long as you don’t get hit.

You also come with tons of ways to mess with the enemy. Make yourself invisible, shoot darkness like a squid shoots ink, have them chasing an illusion, or even just disguise yourself as a loved one. You are a terror to fight.

Cons:

Touching on that thing I said back in Pro #2, you’re pretty squishy, with barely over 100 HP and only 17 AC. Stick to the shadows, you’ll need them.

You also have a serious issue with range. Anything that can outspeed you will find it pretty easy to have you running in circles, since your best ranged attacks are cantrips.

This build is also a little bit complicated, with balancing your Ki, inspirations, who you can disguise as, who you can mimic, and all that fun stuff. Like a lot of the clever people builds, don’t expect to play this one like you would a barbarian.

[bexterbex]

Masking the Heart | Ch. 9

A new galactic war was forming, and your star system needed to create an alliance. Your father, the king, made a deal with the First Order in a promise of protection for guaranteed trade. You are arranged to marry the Commander Kylo Ren, apprentice of the Supreme Leader. A man who is hidden behind his mask. Will your husband show you his heart? Or will it be forever hidden behind a mask?

No tag lists | Masterlist

*Note: The author of this work does not condone arranged marriage practices, domestic abuse, or non-con sexual encounters, this work is for fictional uses only.*

Chapter 9

You dressed in your nightclothes and slipped underneath the freshly changed covers. You regretted asking the droid to change them as these smelled new and sterile and nothing like him. Eventually you drifted in and out of consciousness. Late into the night or early morning, you swore you could hear the sounds of the outer door opening and shutting. And then the door next to your room opening and closing. He must be back. And choosing his own room rather than yours to clean up and rest in.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard the sound of water running through the pipes. He had his own refresher, which made sense as you knew he didn’t use yours to shower in. You briefly wondered if he washed his hair, if he even had any. Your mind drifted to what hair you had seen on his body. If he had hair on his head, it would be as dark as the hair that led to his cock. At the rush of that thought, you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together, feeling heat pool there briefly. You weren’t asleep again for more than 30 minutes before you heard your door open; you had hoped it was him joining you to sleep. But he had other plans. 

You felt the bed dip behind you slightly as you felt a hand trace up your outer thigh before moving to grip the inner tender flesh. You felt his other hand lightly shove your shoulder into the bed; face down into your pillow. No words were exchanged. Your nightgown was shoved up to your waist revealing that your bareness, unlike previous encounters where you didn’t wear any for his savagery of ripping it off, you had worn none this time in hopes of a more consensual encounter, but it would not happen. 

But what you felt shocked you, your hips were brought up higher, more convenient angle, his fingers traced down your folds as if he was touching a delicate piece of ancient knowledge. His calloused thumb massaged your delicate clit. You bit into the pillow to muffle your moans of pleasure. You didn’t want to scare him off. But he continued to slowly massage you for a few minutes as his fingers danced over your folds. You felt his bare thigh brush up against yours. You did not remember hearing him take off any clothes, he must have come in naked. 

You felt him ready you as both hands gripped into the meat of your ass, his thumbs dipping into you, spreading your cunt wide for him. His thrusts were different this time, desperate in a different way as if touching you was almost enough to get him there, that he was desperate for any form of friction or tightness from you. His hands had moved to the top of your hips to steady his unsteady self. You could hear the urgency in his breaths through his mask. You neared your edge as his hand came to steady his cock inside you. His fingers fumbling against your folds as you wrapped around him. 

You moaned as brightness hit the back of your eyelids, your convulsions were just enough to send him into his own orgasm. One that almost made him collapse on top of you, but he steadied himself before that could happen. You felt his helmet rest against your back as his hands landed on either side of the bed. As he lifted himself up from you, you felt the bed dip even more with his weight. His hands steadied themselves once more on the top of your hips as he reluctantly pulled out of you as if he was relishing in your warmth. He used your hips to help him stand, something he has never done. Almost as if he had just given you everything. As he stood, you heard him slightly stumble back and brace himself against the wall. His arm making a dull thud sound against the metal wall. 

He stood there for a moment as you let your hips return down to the bed. Once they made contact, you stretched your legs and spread them out even wider, hoping that he was looking and that he enjoyed the slight show. While your face was still buried in the pillow, you reached down under you to your own folds, feeling the wetness you both had left behind. Your fingers mixing the two milky substances, relishing in the tenderness you felt there. You heard him take a step forward, but as you took your hand away hoping it would be replaced by something, anything of his; you heard the door open. As you turned to look at it, you saw the glimpse of his bare shoulder as he left. 

You were alone. 

It took a while for you to fight back into sleep as your emotions seemed to run through the entire course of the Kessel Run. You squeezed your thighs together, relishing in the tenderness you felt between them, and hugged your pillow as sleep finally overcame you. 

You were reluctant to wake to your alarm, feeling groggy and sore. But you ushered on into the refresher taking a shower, you cringed as you washed away the dried cum between your legs and in your folds. Pondering over the bruises he left on your hips. You didn’t remember him gripping you that hard during the whole thing, so you assumed they were from his attempts at balancing himself. Squeezing your thighs together, hoping to feel a ghost of his cock. Your body almost seemed to ache for his ability to fill you and stretch you. And anything else was just you missing a piece of yourself. 

You finished your shower and finished getting ready. As you stepped out into the living room, you heard the main door shut, which means that your husband had just left. It stung just a bit knowing that if you had left your room just two seconds earlier, you would have been able to see him if only for a moment. You set aside that thought and made yourself breakfast, you ate, and as you put your bowl away you thought for a moment, and sent a photo to your husband even though he was apparently on board ship. 

Commander Ren,

As per the attached photo, I have eaten. Good morning, there is dessert in the fridge from last night if you have a moment to enjoy it.

                                                                                                           Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

A rather quick response came to you, as if it only took just moments for him to respond. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

I fail to believe that you have put your cunt in the fridge. 

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You dropped your datapad in shock at the message. Frozen for several minutes as your brain tried to process his message. You eventually picked it back up off the floor, the feeling of blood rushing to your face and vulnerability as you bent down. Slowly staggering to the kitchen and snapped a photo to send back to him. 

Commander Ren,

No! I made dessert last night, thinking you were going to be back earlier than you were, I miscalculated how late you were actually going to be. 

                                                                                                           Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

Moments later, his response came. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

That is… unsatisfying.  

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

It shocked you. Did he really want a nude photo of you? Sent to him now? When he could just come to you from where ever he was on the ship and fuck you again? If he was away on a mission, you could understand. You could even hope that it would be his eyes only on the photo, but on this ship wherever he was you couldn’t guarantee that. 

Commander Ren,

Did you expect me to undress and take a photo of myself in the fridge?! 

                                                                                                          Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You wandered over to the couch to sit down, to be able to steady yourself for this conversation. He seemed to be like you right on the datapad, as another message seemed to instantly reply to you. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

The fridge detail is rather unneeded, but the photo would be rather satisfactory.  

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You could feel warmth pool between your legs as you excitedly responded. 

Commander Ren,

I was informed that you have surveillance access to our quarters. What need does a photo satisfy compared to that? 

                                                                                                           Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

This was it, you were flirting with your husband. It seemed like the datapad was just the buffer and shield you needed in order to be able to do so, both of you. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

I do. Your point?

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

So he really needed you to spell it all out for him. You took a breath of bravery and stood and shot off a reply. 

Commander Ren,

Where are the cameras placed? You better be alone.   

                                                                                                           Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You waited with baited breaths for his response. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

Near the window facing towards the front door. Another in the kitchen facing towards your bedroom door and lastly in the corner of your bedroom facing your door out into the living room. 

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

Bravely you headed towards the window and hit the button to shut the shutters, closing off the outside world to what was about to happen. Finding the small round device that appeared to be the camera. You sent off one quick message before setting the datapad on a side table. 

Commander Ren,

As I said, you better be alone. Get ready for a show. 

                                                                                                         Princess Ren

Wife to the Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

Once you sent off the message, you took a few paces back from the camera. You turned slowly in a circle, stretching your neck as you did so, showing him the skin that was already exposed there. You paused as you faced the camera, fingertips slowly drifting up to the sides of your face and then down along your neck and collarbone. Slowly teasing him with the skin that was already bare. Fingertips brushing up and down against the top of your breasts, against the small amount of cleavage you allowed the world to already see. 

You slowly turned, keeping your back to the camera now, letting your fingertips caress your skin as you stretched your neck, and caressed yourself as if you were your own lover. Hands skimming over your sides and waist, rolling your neck sensually. You paused for a moment, before hooking a finger under the shoulder of your dress and letting it fall down your arm, and then to the other side. You were unsure how far the other camera could see, so you covered your breasts, not wanting to show too much too soon. Being a tease. 

You stepped out of your dress entirely. Slowly turning towards the camera, keeping yourself ‘modest’ with your own hands. You played shy while batting your eyelashes towards it, and then you rolled your neck, exposing more of yourself to him, but not everything. This was so liberating for you, as your arm and hand kept you covered. You crossed your legs and brought the hand that was covering your crotch up to caress the bare skin of your stomach. You also squeezed your own breast, relishing in the sensation of letting out a small moan. 

You did not know if that surveillance included sound, but at this point, you didn’t care. You gained the courage to drop your arm, but then quickly took your breasts in your hands, squeezing and leaning forward, eventually splaying your fingers. Swirling your nipples, giving him a show and yourself pleasure. Your hands had minds of their own, one still playing with your breast, the other trailing its way down your stomach and to your crotch. Just as your fingers were gracing your folds, your datapad pinged with a message. 

You sauntered over to it, pushing your ass out as you leaned over to read it. Spreading your legs a bit, hopefully giving him a full view. 

Dear Princess Ren, 

Your bed would give us both a better vantage point for that. 

                                                                                             Commander Kylo Ren

              Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke and Master of the Knights of Ren

You read it out loud, giggled, and turned. Looking at the camera over your shoulder playfully. You picked up the datapad and sauntered your way to your bedroom. When the door to your bedroom opened, you looked at it squarely before tossing the datapad onto the bed. You promenaded for a moment giving a show before flopping down onto the bed. You ran your hands through your hair before grabbing your pillows and propping up your back. 

Now fully facing the camera, baring it all to him. You trailed your hands over yourself. You spread your legs wide, allowing your hands to find different ways to pleasure yourself. Your hands taking turns with your breasts, your lips, and your folds, even thrusting fingers in and out of yourself. Filling your room full of your own moans. You did not know how long you were lost within yourself, but you panicked as you heard the outer door of your quarters open and shut, but then your brain registered the familiar fall of a particular person’s boot steps. 

Your bedroom door opened, relieving your husband in his black-clad glory. You spoke first as he almost hesitated in the doorway. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” it came out as much more of a whine than should have been appropriate between you two given your history.

But oddly enough, he complied as he started taking off his belt, toeing off his boots, and removing his shirt. You shimmied up the bed, throwing the pillows back into place and flopping down into your usual spot. By the time your eyes had focused on him again, he was nude in front of you, well except for his helmet. He climbed up between your legs; you were both eager and ready. An arm behind your back and the other hooked over your shoulder as he thrust in. The quick and tempered pace was what he set out for you both.

This angle allowed you to kiss and run your tongue over the mouthpiece. Your brain was already so fried that you could not fathom why that wouldn’t be a good idea. But oddly enough your husband didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he was more focused on what his genitals were doing that you kissing him didn’t matter. After all, you could only speculate how flustered your show left him. It was a possibility that his brain was just as flustered. But he turned his head to yours as if HE was kissing you. 

You rang in your orgasm loudly, probably the loudest you had ever been. Kylo kept going as he had yet to reach his own climax, but you could feel he was just on the cusp. But he briefly switched angles, hitting your sweet spot again and again and again, almost as if he was determined to get you off again before he came. And it worked, or rather you literally came together as a final crescendo to the complete show. As you came down, you gripped his helmet in your hands and kissed him as if your life depended on it. Forcing yourself on top of him. Taking control of the finale. 

And for once he didn’t cut it short as his hands wrapped loosely around your back. He let you kiss him. Your kisses trailed all over his face. As you kissed his crown, you could feel your nipples graze against the textured metal. By the end, you were sitting on his stomach as you sat up. Essentially ‘trapping’ him beneath you. 

You felt a giggle bubble up, “Was that a good dessert?” A mischievous smile gracing your lips. A sparkle within your eye. 

You could hear him sigh deeply before responding, “It was… acceptable.”

You cocked your brow and tilted your head, “Just acceptable, I thought that it all was rather impressive myself. Much better than the photo you requested.” 

You heard a sharp sound, which could have translated into a snort, “Much better than a photo, I agree.” 

You moved to hover over his face, “So more than acceptable?”

His hands gripped your hips as he pulled you off of him. “More than acceptable,” he reluctantly agreed. 

You had a pout on your face as you realized he was leaving. “So what were you doing, might I ask?”

As he pulled up his pants, “Test piloting my TIE Fighter, I had some adjustments made, and they needed testing.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots. You joined him in your naked glory. 

“Did I distract you? I have been called a distraction for you.” You didn’t really want to bring up Hux in your afterglow, but you wanted to tease your husband. 

He turned and looked at you, his covered eyes seeming to bore into you. “It would take much more than that to be a distraction.” He then stood up and donned his shirt. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, knowingly pushing up your breasts. “That sounds like a challenge.” Your mind started twisting and turning, thinking about how you would be able to get under his skin in that way.

 He bent down to look at you again while putting on his gloves. “I would like to see you try.” You could tell that this would be fun for both of you. He then turned and headed out of your bedroom. 

You followed unabashed in your nudeness in your own home. You grabbed his arm, and he froze; he was headed out the door to return to whatever else he had yet to do today. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, “Good morning.” And then let go to walk over to your dress, which was still in the corner of the living room. As you pulled it on, you could see him paused in front of the door to the ship’s hallway. His head turned slightly as if to keep you in the corner of his eye, checking to see if you were clothed. Once your dress was properly situated on your body, he left. 

You were very proud of yourself at that moment; you had managed to get him to drop whatever he was doing to come running to you, for you. It felt empowering knowing you could do that to him. Even if he would never admit it. You half wondered if he would travel across the galaxy for you if you had put on that much of a show while he was away. 

You hoped that the bubble wouldn’t burst anytime soon, that he would continue with this round of good moods. But you knew it wouldn’t last forever, as much as you wanted it to, reality would come crashing down around you. 

Briefly, you wondered if you would eventually fall in love with this man; it felt as if you were reaching the summit and that you would be there soon. You just hoped that he wasn’t below sea level. He might never say the words, but you hoped he would at least harbor the feelings. 

A/N: There will be approximately once a month updates or more, February was just short. But I kept my promise. 

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

South Korean music industry at a glance: an outsider perspective

I watched one particular AMV last week. The song used for the video was “I’m afraid” by Korean rock band DAY6. I was pleasantly surprised as someone who values lyrics in song first and foremost. The music itself was great. I’ll listen to their songs again. It’s a nice fit for my music taste. Naturally, YouTube’s algorithm decided that I’m a fan of everything Korean after 1 video and started spamming my recommendations with k-pop songs, documentaries and everything in-between. 

I watched a couple of videos, listened to some songs and discovered fascinating patterns. So, I went down to the comment section. And it was rather interesting experience, should I say? The concept of entertainment industry in South Korea simply begged to be explored more after this. I dug deeper and visited Tumblr k-pop tags and briefly glanced upon Instagram and Twitter. And, oh...

I am a big picture person and I enjoy both studying and creating systems. This one was particularly fun to explore. I discovered a lot of new things for myself. Perhaps, you can discover something new for yourself too or take a step back and look at this from a new angle. 

Disclaimer: it’s impossible not to offend someone on Tumblr, so keep that in mind. That being said, I do NOT intend to insult of offend anyone. It’s just a little research done for fun, because I love research with a purpose. This post is NOT A HATE post. No hate intended for fans, artists or other people involved. It’s meant to be a discussion, nothing more and nothing less. If it sounds like hate, it’s just my sarcastic sense of humour.

Content Warning: I mention suicide, death, depression, rape in a couple of sentences. There’s nothing major or graphic, but it’s there. 

In this long post I decided to share with you my opinion, a so-called outsider perspective, on the world of music entertainment industry in South Korea and people involved in it on different levels. I use the word “outsider” mainly because, that’s exactly what I am in this case, as someone who is in no way involved in k-pop community. I can’t name you a single band or their members. I don’t know any solo artist and can’t neither sing nor name you any song. 

And to be completely honest, I don’t think I will set my foot into k-pop fan-circles ever again after everything I saw. 

Think of this as “In this essay I will...” meme, except there’s an actual essay.

As far as I know, in South Korea “k-pop” refers to all music produced in SK, including solo artists, various bands, singers-songwriters. It doesn’t even have to be pop music. Koreans include in this definition all genres of music. However, around the world “k-pop” means primarily music made by idol groups and bands marketed for children, teenagers and younger people. In this post I use the latter definition, because that’s how most people understand “k-pop” in other countries. Therefore, my statements, opinions and conclusions here would concern only idol music. 

The music industry in South Korea is heavily influenced by culture and traditions of the country, just like all things are. And there’s nothing wrong with that. After all, different backgrounds are what makes people so interesting and unique. However, when combined with consumer mindset, desire to generate profit at any cost and fast-paced nature of modern life these neutral cultural elements could produce something concerning, and it can lead to disastrous consequences. 

1. Idol

These people are called artists, musicians, singers, bands, groups, performers. In South Korea and in Japan, however, people call them Idols or Stars. I’ve also seen Muses, Princes and Queens. Interesting, isn’t it? The terminology used to describe these musicians in South Korea is one of the key elements in this whole entertainment system. You’ll see why.

But who or what is an idol exactly? Let’s take a basic definition from Wikipedia.

“In the practice of religion, a cult image or devotional image is a human-made object that is venerated or worshipped for the deity, person, spirit or daemon ... that it embodies or represents. In several traditions, including the ancient religions of Egypt, Greece and Rome, and modern Hinduism, cult images in a temple may undergo a daily routine of being washed, dressed, and having food left for them. Processions outside the temple on special feast days are often a feature. Religious images cover a wider range of all types of images made with a religious purpose, subject, or connection. In many contexts "cult image" specifically means the most important image in a temple, kept in an inner space, as opposed to what may be many other images decorating the temple.

The term idol is often synonymous with worship cult image. In cultures where idolatry is not viewed negatively, the word idol is not generally seen as pejorative, such as in Indian English.”

Cambridge Dictionary defines idol as follows:

And here’s the definition from Oxford Dictionary: 

This is a centrepiece of this tapestry. Surely, you have noticed by now what these definitions have in common. 

Idol = a cult image of a god, a deity 

By calling these musicians “idols” industry makes society and audience treat them in certain way, namely as gods. What characteristics do gods possess? They are beautiful, talented, funny, confident and graceful, blessed by eternal youth of immortality. Gods have no flaws, they do not bleed, they are above human concerns. They are an embodiment of perfection. They are stars, you could not reach. 

But real people are not like that. They can be sad and angry, insecure. People don’t have perfectly symmetrical faces. They can’t dance in sync without preparation. They can’t sing like angels at any given moment throughout the day.

What happens when idols accidentally reveal their humanity? What happens when people see, that they make mistakes and do stupid things, that they need to train hard to appear graceful on stage? 

I will tell you. And it’s not pretty. But, first, let’s look at other elements of this system. 

2. Y/N and Self-insert fantasy

Aside from the music, K-pop sells the self-insert fantasy to the audience. It’s carefully arranged to appear real, where the cracks are masked and every word is scripted. The reality is so vivid that one doesn’t even have to use imagination all that much, because all scenarios and decorations already exist. Countless interviews for TV and magazines, fan meetings, talk shows, reality shows made sure people are privy to all juicy details of personal lives and opinions of musicians. And also one word - merchandise. Some of that merch made me question my life choices. Some of it is, ah, creepy or has weird vibes. All of this provides plenty of material for people to work with. Fans can effortlessly imagine themselves beside their idols or even in their place. 

In a highly competitive society, where people throw themselves into studying and work since young age, forming deep and lasting connections with others is very hard, sometimes impossible. As a result, people long to have a group of close friends with similar interests, a loving partner who would cherish them endlessly. People want to be rewarded for their backbreaking efforts to succeed by the carefree life of fame and music, everlasting friendships and love. And in a way you can’t really blame them for his. 

Does this dream life sound familiar? We are looking at K-pop bands here. It doesn’t really matter if their members don’t always get along or that they can live in debt, that fame is fickle and adoring fans can tear your self-confidence to shreds. Audience wants the glamour of fantasy and the industry is more than happy to cater to these desires. 

Perhaps, knowing that even for idols this fantasy is sometimes unattainable makes the whole set up feel just a little cruel. 

3. Fans, stans and fandom culture

We’ve already established earlier that idols are gods in the eyes of people and listed traits they must possess. So, what else do gods need to exist? Worshippers. Because a cult is worth nothing without its followers. Gods need a group of people to worship them and spread their beliefs. The role of worshippers is performed by a fans in this case. 

Apparently, there is a running joke that girl groups need to win a general public popularity and boy bands need a big passionate fandom. It seems to be true according to my observations. 

In k-pop fandom people use the word “stan” to state that they like or support particular group. Now, I am sure everyone here knows that in other fandoms, dedicated to movies, shows, books and games there’s an important distinction between being a “fan” and a “stan”. What is it? 

A fan is someone who likes a ship or character, creates and/or consumes fandom content, supports certain ideas, discusses things they enjoyed and disliked, criticises canon. Stans, however, are a different breed. They engage in all typical fandom activities, but their support and enjoyment becomes obsession. Stans believe their favourite characters and ships are immune to criticism, that they are superior no matter what others say. Stans start shipping wars, send anon hate, death threats over fictional characters and hurt real people. Stans are considered toxic fans. And majority of normal civilised people don’t like them and try their best to let stans hang out in their echo chamber by themselves. 

In other fandoms and communities, to be a fan means to love, support and enjoy something, while to stan means to obsess over and hyperfixate on these same things. Words “I stan” rarely mean “I support” for most people, and if they do mean that, it’s only used in a joking manner (”We stan procrastination legend!”, “I stan our miscommunication kings”).

Everywhere else “stan” has only negative connotations, except in k-pop. But what has changed? What’s the difference? Why do international fans scoff at “shipper stans” and then turn around calling themselves “stans of X k-pop group” at the same time? Does it make you wonder? 

And this is another core theme of k-pop, in my opinion. In fandom where stan = obsession = support, you can see interesting patterns. 

Fandom loves their flawless gods. But watching them from afar is not enough for some people, because unlike deities in different religions, these gods live among us. People are very much aware of that. Industry has created a cult and laid the groundwork for worshippers to express their adoration in every way including personal contact. And who wouldn’t want to meet their god? Who wouldn’t want to know more about them or tell them how much you love them? In talk shows and fan meetings there is only so much one can do after all.

People desire to know more, to have more so much that their obsession transforms into concerning stalker tendencies. These crazy individuals follow idols, stalk them on social media, in hotels, research flight numbers, bribe security. Musicians were attacked and poisoned. I strongly suspect there were cases of rape that no one knows about. There is even a special term for these fans - “sasaeng”. 

Is there a definition for stalkers of actors or musicians in western world? No, I’m pretty sure there isn’t. They are just called “invasive/obsessive fans” or “stalkers”.

Also, there are sasaeng memes. Yeah, you heard that right. I enjoy some classy dark humour as much as the next person, but there is a fine line between normal and questionable. 

Back to the topic of stalkers. Do you realise how disturbing that is? Such behaviour is so common that there is a term for it. You create a fandom-cult, encourage people to worship k-pop idols as gods and then act surprised when members of said cult become fanatics and their adoration becomes obsession.

And it’s so easy to step on this slippery road. The system makes it ridiculously easy. Lines begin to blur. How much is too much? Where do you draw the line? 

While sasaeng fans engage in extreme real-life obsession, people online aren’t that far off, to be honest. I’ve seen it all: imagines, headcanons, fanfiction, real-person shipping, reactions. Real person shipping is a controversial topic. Some people support it, others don’t. I suppose I’m among those who don’t get it. I’m not exactly against it, but I find it strange. Mainly because it’s based on assumptions made by fans about personalities and behaviour of real people. 

Assumptions. Dear me! K-pop fandom has this thing with video compilations. I’ve never seen this phenomenon being so widespread in any other community or fandom. Basically people edit together a collection of short clips from talk-shows, interviews, Instagram stories, some YouTube videos, etc and then proceed to analyse every gesture, word, facial expression of idols and provide both audio and on-screen commentary. These videos and many other forms of similar analysis allow people to imagine what kind of personalities idols have, what kind of life do they live. It’s the source material for fanfiction, imagines and headcanons. 

But it’s not real. It’ll never be real. It’s an illusion, an image, a stage persona. They fall in love with a face and made up personality. And I think that when people create this content they can forget this. Fans can develop certain emotional dependence and unhealthy attitudes in the long run. In some YouTube comments even supportive and encouraging words sound whiny and obsessive. And semantics of being a “stan” of certain group or individual doesn’t help. 

4. Industry, companies and liars 

At last we arrive at the most important aspect of music entertainment industry - its creators.

Have you seen “The Road to El Dorado”? It’s one of my all time favourites. It has iconic characters, adult jokes that I didn’t get as a child and iconic soundtrack. I’ll quote “It’s Tough To Be A God” a lot here. 

In South Korea music industry is a factory, the production line to be exact. This kind of set up affects everything in the grand scheme of things. Companies and agencies play the role of training centres and record labels. And there are so many of them that a whole new scamming system developed based around fake idol agencies. It implies that there are people who fall for offers of these agencies and continue to do so. I suspect that victims must pay a fortune upfront before they realise their mistake. Are there any kind of legal protection against such scams? How can people verify the authenticity? Because a well masked scam can exist for a long time before someone discovers it and calls them out on their nonsense. 

As far as I understand legal companies work like this. After high school, which is often focused on performing arts (and private schools can get away with using talents of students for personal gain, which is totally not surprising), young people can audition for an agency and become an idol in training or idol-trainee. And passing audition is hard. But good recommendations can help, connections too. 

During training you don’t get paid. Only a few companies pay aspiring musicians. People can spend years in training and don’t debut. But rent, necessities, clothing and food (not that you need much of it, but more on that later) cost a lot. Where do you get the money to live then? Support from parents, one or two part time jobs at most and bank loans. Surprise! We found an unexpected (just kidding, it’s very obvious) party, who reaps benefits from the system. 

You need skill to be an idol. Natural talent helps too. The more skills you have, the cheaper and faster your training is. To level up your game you attend classes every month offered by your agency, which are not cheap (dance classes range from 400$ to 1000$ per month, sometimes more). There are four main categories in evaluation process: vocals, rapping, dancing and visuals. Idols are multitaskers, to have a chance on stage one must be perfect at everything. And people are ready to invest thousands of dollars into their kids training so that they could have a chance in entertainment industry. South Korea thrives on revenue k-pop industry generates every day.

Let’s pause here for a second and think about what kind of people come to these agencies. The answer is easy. People who have a dream, a desire, a real goal. You don’t wake up one day and decide to become a k-pop idol. Sometimes people get invited by agencies (after prior acting, modelling career or any other form of exposure). These people are usually very young. Some start straight after high school, some after university, but 25 years old is considered a late start. Compare that to western musicians who start singing at any age and still become famous. 

But why this age limit? Because idols are eternally young. So that in public eye musicians are remembered as 20 year old gods. People would listen to their music and imagine a young attractive face. Career in k-pop is short, it lasts 5-7 years, rarely longer than that. It’s even less than modelling or acting can offer. And professional sportsmen retire in their late 30′s. Some play longer, but usually, that’s it.

If you live in Los Angeles and say that you want to be an actor or performer, no one would bat an eye. It’s like saying that you want to be an engineer or accountant. Similarly, in South Korea becoming an k-pop musician is a real career. Because part of the self insert fantasy that the industry sells is the idea that anyone can be an idol. It’s easy after all. Anyone can pass auditions and become a trainee. A trainee with no guarantee of debut. But one should never underestimate the power of idol-dream. After all, idea is the most resilient parasite.   

“My friends started training in kindergarten. They have wanted to become idols since young”

“A lot of young kids get interested in Korean music” 

A 6-year old child sees the performance of k-pop group for the first time on TV. Let’s say it’s a girl. She is enraptured and decides that she will be like that too someday. She grows up, while being part of the fandom, just like all idols are in one way or another and whose fan-obsession transforms into desire to succeed. Her parents spend time and money to find her tutors, to fund dancing and singing classes. Perhaps in high school this girl decides to fix the shape of her eyes and make nose straighter. She trains hard and passes the auditions in her dream agency. And during training this girl faces the reality of behind the scenes life in music industry.

“Why are you crying? I’m not even pushing you”

“How many times have I told you? The rest are doing it perfectly”

“She is dancing like an elementary school student“

“I watched your performance as a spectator who bought a ticket to your concert. I want a refund“

“You make my ears hurt. I don’t want to listen at all”

“Listening to you was tiring”

“I’ll kick you out instead. You won’t debut”

“I thought I was going to die. That’s how determined I was” 

While I do understand that keeping a high quality standards in media industry is important, there are more productive and healthy ways to motivate someone to improve and be more passionate, you know? Constantly insulting people with sadistic glee and putting them down at every opportunity or calling them ugly to their face doesn’t do much. 

Do you think that children know about this? Do they know about soulless teachers and belittling managers? Do they know about friends who are really your competition, so you shouldn’t get attached? Do they know about living in debt? Do they know any of this? No, I don’t think they do. 

Children dream about the stage, about the sea of lights and crowds who chant your names. They want adoring fans and photoshoots. They want to appear on TV and magazine covers. Teenagers want the thrill of performance, they want to share their music and dancing with others. 

“I don’t know how many times I cried alone”

The truth is cruel. But they won’t give up easily even if it means sleeping 4-5 hours and consuming no more than 500 calories per day. Because giving up means that your whole life was a lie. One can’t afford not to be good enough. Giving up means admitting that all efforts and money your family invested into your dream were in vain. It means losing face before your family and friends - a fate worse than death. Imagine living this idol dream and building your whole future around it and then being told that you’ll never debut because of the circumstances outside of your control or something minor, like face shape or 1 kg of weight that your body refuses to lose. It can break you. Especially if you are like 18 or something. 

5. “And who am I to bridle if I'm forced to be an idol If they say that I'm a God, that's what I am”

“I don’t think there’s anything a tough as being a trainee in Korea”

Once you are a trainee at the agency your personal life does not belong to you anymore. You can’t go out without permission of the agency. You phone is taken away. Your diet and weight are monitored. Bad habits are not allowed (no smoking, drinking or drugs). Oh! I think I found the good thing in the system! Unfortunately, it won’t last. Trainees can’t date or meet with family without permission of agency. Dating is very taboo. Even established idols can’t openly date. 

Why is that? Because gods can’t belong to anyone. Their lives are property of the fandom. Because openly dating idols destroy the self-insert fantasy. There was a former idol girl who dated another musician. She was called a whore by her fans, her loving and adoring stans. You might know who I am talking about. Would you call an American actor or singer a prostitute for dating someone?

Trainees sign the contract. And how can a young person straight out of school or university know much about what makes a good contract in entertainment industry or what makes a good contract in general? Even if you do understand the terms fully you would still sign it because if you have come so far, you can’t let your dream slip this easily. There isn’t a choice. Not really. If you want to debut, you will agree to anything.

What about life after debut? You have to pay off your loans. And company takes 60-70% of your group’s earnings. Artists themselves get 30-40% and split it between themselves. K-pop groups have from 5 to 10 members or more than that. Each person gets less than 6%. Idols are not filthy rich. They are not. These earnings are practically nothing compared to the work you have put into this. 

Idols are musicians, who often don’t even write their own songs, music or create choreography. But if public doesn’t like the song and musical number the company created, they blame idols for the failure. Such an amazing logic we see right here. But people say that sharing music is the best part of idol life. But whose music? 

Models on catwalk are not there to demonstrate their physical beauty, they are blank canvas for works of clothing designers. Same with k-pop musicians. They act like puppets in a way, whose faces and voices are used to show audience someone’s music and songs. Some groups do write their own music and lyrics and it’s nice to know that. But those, who don’t are rather unfortunate. It’s a nice tool of psychological control and pressure for an agency. They can hold it over group and use the following rhetoric: “We gave you everything! Why can’t you follow the simple instructions” or “Where would you be without us? It’s not even your music!”

I called k-pop industry a factory. That’s true. Dozens of people become trainees every year. These talented young people are fully prepared to do anything to achieve their goal. They are ready to practice until they collapse, starve themselves and pour themselves into every song. Companies know that. Tell me why would they value their idols as individuals, as people, as human beings if they always have a replacement? Why bother with mental health of their artists if next year they could have a fresh set of people, who are younger and prettier? Why try to improve relationships inside groups if you could fire any member and replace them within a month or two?

In western countries famous bands have different stories. Some were friends since high school, who played in bars and during festivals and then they were noticed by some representative of label company, who offered them a contract. Some groups were formed by like-minded people who bonded and decided to share their music with the world. There are many stories, but ultimately the have one thing in common. Bands in the West often form themselves. These people had time to bond, connect, discover each other, solve some disagreements and learn to work around their differences. 

K-pop groups are formed by their agencies. They are their property in a way. Company selects the best and puts together these total strangers, appoints the leader with marketable face and personality and then expects them to work together like a well-oiled machine. No one has time to bond during training, because other people are you competition, not friends. And then you must learn to work as a team and be best friends on camera for the audience to support the self-insert fantasy. It’s no wonder that k-pop groups don’t get along sometimes. And every member knows that they are replaceable. It doesn’t help in forming connections. Groups can’t just terminate contract and go to work with another agency. I heard it happens sometimes, but it’s not a done thing. Unlike in other countries where bands just sign the deal with a different label and release their music under their name if they don’t like the old conditions. 

“It's tough to be a God But if you get the people's nod Count your blessings, keep them sweet, that's our advice Be a symbol of perfection Be a legend, be a cult Take their praise, take a collection As the multitudes exalt Don a supernatural habit We'd be crazy not to grab it So sign up two new Gods for paradise”

But is it really a paradise?

Idols are expected to act cute, to match personalities created for them by fans or media. They have to act according to the concept of their group. They have to be a symbol of perfection: skinny, single and with a face perfected by surgery. They are allowed to mess up, but only in a cute way. They can break down and cry, but only if it’s “aesthetic”.

Weight issues are a separate topic. Sometimes I wonder whether managers in companies understand how weight loss or human body in general works. To be honest, I think that scales in agencies are rigged. And only managers know that. I know it can be done from personal experience. Some beach resorts tweak their scales and make them show 4-6 kg less than actual weight, so people wouldn’t get upset if they gain some. There is no way a girl as tall as I am (173 cm) could weigh like 47-50 kg and be able to perform complex choreography on stage and sing without being out of breath, visit the gym on a regular basis and generally function as a normal human without fainting every other day.

“I developed a lot of eating disorders”

“I think I consumed about 300 calories today“

“Someone, please, trim the fat off her arms”

If you grow up thinking of idols as gods and then, when you become one of them you think that you must act as one too. But being an easily replaceable god is a heavy burden. The industry, companies and audience want you to be perfect, to always be on your best behaviour. And the thought of not being good enough or divine enough terrifies you, because stans have no mercy (black ocean concept is the most stupid thing ever by the way). This kind of pressure can destroy even the most resilient. And it does. 

Almost everyone knows that situation with mental health in South Korea is not the best to put it lightly. In many ways it’s a cultural thing. But in k-pop mental health issues are treated with even less care. Gods are not supposed to be depressed or suicidal. They are not supposed to have fears or insecurities, can’t be upset or angry. They try hard to be this deity, this image. So, even when they realise they need professional help or even a friend to talk to, they either won’t seek said help or reach out only to be met with silence. Some agencies disapprove or forbid therapy altogether. 

Sometimes fandom becomes self-aware.

“Don’t forget that idols are people too!”

“Your favourite idols are running out of breath just to keep you entertained“

“They are humans, who have feelings!”

Oh, but here’s the thing, my friend. The industry doesn’t want you to think of them as people. Companies and media repeatedly reinforce the idea that they are not people, they are your idols. And strangely enough, the audience supports this idea. People continue to call them idols, developing worshiping tendencies in the process, imitate them, scrutinise their flaws and triumphs. Because, you know, only “real and ordinary humans” can have flaws, not “idols”.

So people who say “they are human too” and people who say “wow, this concert was amazing, but vocals in the beginning were so off-key, I simply can’t” are one and the same.

This thought process would have been funny if it wasn’t so disappointing. But that’s just my observation.

And here’s another thing about sexualisation. I said before how appearances are everything, marketable face and body could drastically improve your chances to succeed. Companies know about this too and concepts and aesthetics of groups are designed accordingly. Girls are dressed in skimpy outfits, their dances are unnecessary suggestive, they wear heavy make up and try to have “mature” vibes. Boys don’t avoid such objectification either: suits, tight pants and dress shirts along with make up and hairstyle to give audience a promise of the things to come. Grown adults are not supposed to lust after 15-17 year olds. You can’t just create a sexy stage persona for teenagers. Do you remember my earlier words about creepy merch? Yeah. All of it neatly plays into the self-insert fantasy and encourages obsessive behaviour. 

This happens in western countries too. In some way that’s understandable. Beautiful and sexy image with a hint of innocence attracts more people and sells, because it caters to one of the base human instincts. But some things make your skin crawl. 

Sponsorships are another topic. Some k-pop bands seek out sponsors to provide financial aid and cover expenses, when earnings are not enough. Sometimes these sponsorships are fine, perfectly civil. But sometimes it’s a prostitution. Girl groups receive money and provide sexual favours to their patrons. It’s a way for the group to gain financial support and even find new opportunities in the industry. Companies can encourage such deals. Let that sink in for a moment. 

6. “Any advice to those who want to become a k-pop idol?”

A lot of former idols and trainees have similar responses to this question. 

“I don’t want to discourage anyone, but think twice”

“You only see the glamorous side, but don’t see all the hard work that goes into it”

“It’s not what you think”

“They think ‘Since I am good looking and can sing and dance really well, maybe I should become an idol?’, but there is much more to it“

“They think it’s something that is easy and will keep their family set for life financially”

And this implies that most people don’t know what kind of lifestyle k-pop stars truly have, despite the amount of information available online about “behind the scenes” proceedings.

7. Moving on

I am a practical person and every decision I make is subjected to scrutiny. And after seeing everything I can't help but wonder whether idols believe it's truly worth it. What keeps the industry alive is the idol-dream, the wilful ignorance of its reality and youthful idealism, the beautiful naïve belief that it'll get better, even if it never does in the end.

Sure no one would ever admit it out loud, because it's one of those things you never say on camera, no matter how sincere you have to be. It's the matter of professionalism after all, and idols have it spades. And also, because admitting this would equal admitting that you spent your best years doing something you both loved and hated, admitting that this was a mistake.

When you grow up in a society where appearances matter the most, where saving face and being polite is more important than staying true to yourself, where individuality is tolerated only to a certain point, it takes a lot of courage to admit that you need a break. I greatly respect those who decided that idol lifestyle is not for them and moved on.

8. Conclusion

To sum up, I hope you enjoyed my small research and this perspective, since you have read it all the way to the end.  

You have noticed that entertainment industry is an intricate system and its every component makes sure nothing changes. Companies have power over idols and audience, fandom has power over idols and their careers, and musicians themselves have fame and their music, but not always the promised fortune or happiness. 

It’s important to understand the big picture to draw your own conclusions and encourage positive and heathy attitudes in fandoms. Being open minded and allowing people to make mistakes and live their lives the way they want to is a part of being a decent person. People don’t owe anything to others. Art is about sharing your thoughts and feelings, promoting ideas and spreading beauty. It’s not always about money. And I think that this is what k-pop lacks as an industry. It turned dreams and human need for self-expression into business. Here everything is turned into a product. Everything idols touch can be sold, sometimes literally. Industry created problems, which can’t be solved anymore, because doing so would topple the system. And I find it tragic. Trapped in an endless chase after perfection creators of k-pop forgot that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. 

If you take a look at comment sections and posts on different platforms, what will you see? What kind of things resonate with audience? What makes people laugh and cry? When people start to appreciate the substance?

“Everyone needs to hear this song in their darkest moments”

“Thank you for your music!”

“They always deliver! These guys can’t make a bad song!”

“It inspired me to write again!”

“Their songs brought me and my sister together once again”

“This is what happens when you let groups write their own music - they make incredible things”

“They really are legends of k-pop! I love that they are not afraid to show their inner strength”

“Stay strong! You rock!”

I believe that the answer is quite simple: when it’s real, sincere. It’s all about the message you choose to send to your audience, because only superficial things cause obsession. When you say that the sparkly façade is all that matters, then that’s the only thing people will ever care about. Your audience will never give a damn about the meaning behind dancing, music or lyrics, if you tell them that performance is more important. No one would praise WHAT k-pop idols sing, instead they would prefer wasting breath to criticize HOW they sing or look or move. 

I dare the k-pop industry to prove people that it’s not just about looks or perfection, or laser shows, or being a branding machine. Prove to your fans that k-pop artists are also passionate people with big dreams and talent, who love every moment of their job, who live and inspire, who are human just like us and whose humanity is real!

Do it, you cowards!

And now, I’m finished. I can hear the raging crowd of k-pop fandom in the distance, which means it’s time to hide. See you some other time! 

[kimberly-spirits13]

For Wandering Dreamers (Pt. 2)

 Synopsis: After hearing your parents argue about something for what feels like the zillionth time that night, you escape to your books and comics for some escaping of reality. Just as the argument ends with slamming doors, a note and locket landed on your bed. Inscribed on the note was a promise of new adventures and a better life awaiting you.

Notes: Y/F/D= Your Favorite Drink  Y/N= Your Name   Y/N/N= Your Nickname   Y/F/P= Your Favorite Playlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1979

          You woke up to the sound of someone trying to wake you up and small beams of golden sunlight peaking in through the curtains of your bedroom.        

           “Y/N, it’s time to get up.” You rolled over and rubbed your eyes to see Damian stepping back. His emerald green eyes sparkled in the light and you smirked some siting up and taking your hair out of the two braids that it was in, revealing wavy hair

           “What time is it?” You mumbled yawning.

           “it’s 9:15 in the morning. Alfred has breakfast prepared downstairs.” He informed you as you rolled out of bed fixing your shirt.

           “Thank you. I’ll be downstairs shortly.” You said, “Wait, where is the kitchen?”

           “So, you can make your way to the Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude but not the kitchen?” He chuckled, “You surprise me more and more every minute.”

           “Well, I have seen blue prints on Google of the house but it was how someone imagined it so I cannot guarantee that that is actually how to get downstairs.” “And also, you will find that I am in fact very impressive in multiple ways.” You smiled getting out one of the outfits that you packed.

           Running into the bathroom as Damian waited outside on the bed for you, you changed into your favorite colored thinner hoodie, denim jacket, dark grey ripped jeans, black and white Adidas, and you put your hair up. After that you brushed your teeth and then headed out to go downstairs with Damian.

           “Try and take the lead.” He challenged, “Just see if you can make it to the kitchen.”

           “Fine.” You replied walking down the hallway, eventually to a set of stairs.

           “Oh, what floor are we on Damian?” You asked.

           “Just the second.” He answered.

           “Cool.” You walked down the flight of stairs which seemed never ending and then to a double staircase that led to the massive living room and to the side, the kitchen.

           “It wasn’t that hard.” Damian remarked behind you.

           “Mhmm.” You rolled your eyes getting a small laugh from Jason who was leaning on the counter.

           “So, you must be Y/N?” Jay asked.

           “Yep.” You answered, “Oh Jason, just for your information, all of Tumblr wants you to know that you’re awesome.” “It’s a social media platform where I’m from.” You explained, “I don’t know if you guys have it.”

           “Finally, some recognition around here.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “And what does Tumblr say about the rest of the crew?”

           “It’s pretty unsurprising really.” You answered, “Dick is the mother hen, you’re the awesome one that everyone loves, Tim is the sleep deprived little bean,” you laughed some and continued pulling up a link on your phone, “According to this, Damian is a small deadly cupcake, Cass is an amazing and beautiful person who everyone would seriously die for, Steph is a waffle queen, Babs is just a queen... no a goddess, Bruce is the mom jeans dad, and Alfred is superior to all. Oh, and Kate is a badass, Duke is the sane one, and seriously at the end of this it says that the writer would die for every one of you guys.” “So yeah, you guys are pretty popular.”

           Jason was wheezing laughing at Tim and Damian’s description and Dick was slightly offended before be introduced himself. You guys talked a lot much to what seemed to be the to the jealously of Damian for some reason. You wouldn’t admit it but Damian was your favorite Robin. You had had a crush on him but you know, that didn’t need to come to light.

           You sat down at the table and was talking to Damian again who was seated next to you as everyone sat down. They were asking questions and introducing themselves little by little. It was just as you had imagined it on the nights that you dreamed of leaving home or scrolling through some sort of fan fic. The breakfast was amazing and was enough to make you remember that you actually had a life outside of this. Plus, would Bruce pay for education? You weren’t really expecting that but it was the summer time so you assumed that there was no need to worry about that yet.

A few weeks later...

           You were walking around Gotham with Damian the day after the third gala that you had attended. It wasn’t hard to become fast friends with Cass, Babs, and Steph seeing as how they were literal queens of the entire Batfam and the rest of the family welcomed you with open arms, but recently you and Damian haven’t been spending as much time as the two of you would like to. It was something that he had “voiced” after kind of ignoring you for a few days which led to some interrogation on your end, plus some slight teasing.

           Finally, you guys were doing something that didn’t involve six other people, even if those *other people* were very much welcomed. The two of you walked down a sidewalk into a coffee shop where you proceeded to grab a table for the two of you and Damian got the drinks. He came back and smiled some, sitting down and passing you Y/F/D.

           “Thank you.” You said taking a sip from the drink.

           “Anytime.” He answered before the look of an idea graced his face, “There’s a book store not too far from here that you’d probably like.”

           “Is it a Barnes and Noble or just corner/ local shop?” You inquired.

           “It’s a corner shop just down the street. Trust me, it’s better than any Barnes and Noble you’ve ever seen.” He answered.

           “Wanna bet on it Dames?” You chuckled some.

           “Only if you’re prepared to lose Y/N/N.” Damian challenged, “If this is the most impressive book store you’ve ever walked into, I get to take you out on a date Friday night.”

           “Well, then, I might purposely lose, Wayne.” You smiled at him some, the look of brilliant trouble glazing over your eyes, “And if I win, you can take me out and kiss me after the store.”

           “I might do both regardless.”

           You raised a brow, “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see this awe -inspiring book store.”

           You guys walked down the street, swarmed by the media and paparazzi as they were getting pictures of Gotham’s newest unconfirmed couple. The two of you stopped in front of a store that read, “Corner- Shop Books.”

           “Straight to the point I see.” You said sarcastically as you guys walked inside.

           “Mhmm.” Damian looked to see your reaction which was almost immediate.

           The shop was bigger than you expected. There were shelves everywhere and a small sitting area near the middle of the store. In the back, there were stairs that lead to another floor of books and the seemingly infinite sea of literature drew in anyone that gazed into its glass doors. You were still for a second, admiring the large room and then walking around some, leaving Damian behind for a few seconds.

           To Damian, watching you was like watching a kid in a candy shop. You gently ran your fingers over some of the intricate spines of the books, making your way to the classical literature, and then myths, history, and up the staircase to where the fiction and fantasy was.

           He smiled as you looked so at peace in the world. It was the first time that he had really seen you this comfortable aside from some of the moments where you two were alone in the library reading or out in the gardens having conversations on whatever subject or topic you were interested in discussing. The thought that you guys might be here for hours crossed his mind, but was quickly brushed away once he saw the excited look on your face as you found something that was interesting enough to grab hold of your ever -wandering attention.

           “What is this one about?” He asked referring to the hard -back book with a beautiful pale pink and gold cover, and what looked to be part of a castle on the spine.

           You were reading the synopsis of the book before answering him, “It’s a book about a princess that comes from a lineage where the first of the family was a “god killer” of sorts. He defeated the goddess of death when she decided to take over the land and now the goddess, 300 years later, is back to reclaim her throne.” You stopped for a second, “It’s also got a male character who acts as an assassin for the king and may or may not be the romantic interest of the trilogy.”

           “The boxed set is right there if you’d like it.” He picked it up and handed it to you.

           “I’d like to not spend a ton of money on books until I find a job or something.” You said putting the book down.

           “I’ll get it for you. Just get what you’d like, the bookshelves in your bedroom are looking empty as of late except for the few you managed to bring. I can see how you stare at it sometimes with the look of dissatisfaction during some of our conversations.” Damian offered, joking some at the last part.

           “Dames, it’s okay I-“ He cut you off.

           “I insist Y/N.” He said handing you the box of books.

           You gratefully smiled at him and offered a thank you before continuing along in the store to hunt for more books. It was maybe three hours before you guys left. You had a few bags of books and thanked Damian profusely. He insisted that it was totally fine and you kind of stopped once you reminded yourself that he was, in fact, the son of a billionaire.

           Once back in the manor, you had run upstairs to start organizing your shelf, you know, as any book worm might. It wasn’t long before you got a knock at the door and you were pretty sure you knew exactly who it was.

           “Come in.” You turned off Y/F/P and waited for the person to come in.

           Damian walked into your room and shut the door, “So, about the bet.” He asked, “Was it the most impressive book store you’ve ever seen?”

           You thought for a moment, “Well I mean, the one in New York was really cool that one time, oh there was that one from Jersey...” You looked up and smiled, “Just kidding. And yes, it was by far, the best bookstore I’ve ever seen.”

           He smiled and walked to you, putting his hands on your waist, “Then I hope that you will keep your end of the bargain and accompany me to dinner Friday night?”

           “I will.” You replied, your breath hitching some at how close you two were, “I am slightly disappointed that you didn’t lose though.”

           “And why is that Y/N?” He asked.

           “Because now, you don’t have to kiss me.” You smirked some as he stared you intensely.

           “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” With that, he pulled you into a long kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair at one point, and he pulled you dangerously close to his chest.

           Once you broke apart he spoke up, “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

           “That’s an offer I cannot pass up.” You answered, “100%.”

           “Well then beloved...” You smiled at the name remembering it from the fan fics, “I hope you have something to wear for our date.”

           “I’ll find something.” You looked at your stack of books debating whether or not to start shelving them.

           Your thoughts came to a stop when you heard that dinner was ready, you would just do it while Damian was on patrol. You were a night owl anyways, so it wouldn’t matter.

Ya’ll I’m dying I haven’t had literally any sleep but here we are lol. I hope that you guys had a great Easter and are doing well. If you have any requests, please send them in. I hope that you guys are staying safe and are well have a good day and keep sane! 😊

[sixdaysofswordsandshields]

TW - This story contains murder, swearing, and lots of blood. Please read at your own risk. 

This is a somewhat short (~2.7K words), angsty fanfiction about Felix after the war losing his grip, and taking out his frustration in the form of, well, murder. I also would like to say that this is in no way me trying to hate on Dimitri. He is one of my favorite characters, and that is a piece of fiction. I do not agree with everything Felix thinks here, it is fiction. Enjoy!

Felix woke up in a cold sweat. He jolts awake, gasping for air. Glenn... He buries his face in his hands. It's been 10 years, so get out of my head!

Felix hasn't gone a single day without questioning why he alone had to be the sole survivor of his family. Peace was attained, the war was won, Felix was married to the love of his life. Everything was supposed to be good.

He was supposed to be happy.

And part of him was. Truly was happy. Being the new duke of the kingdom had its downsides, but he could finally live freely.

But another part of him was dying, eating away at his very existence. They left you, Felix. They all left you for him. Felix clenches his fist in the silk sheets of his bed, his knuckles turning white. All for that stupid, blond bastard.

Why him?! Why did they have to die for him?! All because of him, Felix had lost everything. With every single day that passed by, that small voice in the back of Felix's head grew louder. It's all his fault, Felix. It's his fault that they're gone.

Felix sighs and gets out of his bed, extra careful to not wake up his lover. He makes his way down to the back door of the Fraldarius Estate, the wood stairs softly creaking with every step. He remembers his childhood. "Felix, little bro!" Glenn would harshly whisper. "Yes, I know. It's the third, ninth, and sixteenth ones that creak." Felix would nod, making his way down as fast as he could. Felix smiles at the thought. They would always sneak out together at night to play...

Felix told his retainers that he simply wanted to be left alone for the time being. He doesn't bother grabbing a jacket. He steps outside into the snow and sighs, his breath foggy in the frigid temperatures of Faerghus.

"Felix... Do you think there will ever be a day where we can rest peacefully?" A voice that sounds too much like Glenn whispers in his ear. Felix gasps, turning around. "Glenn?! Who's there?" He says, stepping backwards in shock and falling back into the snow.

But there was nobody.

Felix takes a deep breath. I'm sure I'm just imagining things. What nonsense, how pathetic. Felix pushes himself up from the snow, his body beginning to shake from the cold. "I should go train." He mutters, turning to the direction of the door.

He hears a deep sigh coming from behind him. "Felix, my son, we've talked about this several times. It's rude to ignore people, especially your own brother."

Felix turns around to be met with his father, who was still looking the exact same as he did the night of his death. He burned with hatred. "Huh. That's damn funny coming from you. You were always the one ignoring me for that idiotic blond mop! Dimitri this, Dimitri that... I'm your son. But you never acknowledged that. Leave me alone, you old bastard."

"Felix, bro, calm down. Why fret over it? The dead are dead, right? We're gone. Forever. You have no right to criticize dad for what he's done because he's dead. The dead are dead, and the living are living." Says Glenn, stepping towards his father. He had seemed to age from when Felix had last seem him. Still towering over him, of course. Felix looks up into his blue eyes, the same shade as his father's, "I know that. Unlike some people around here, I know how to practice what I preach. But... But... I... Nevermind. I'll be going now. Goodbye." He begins to make a beeline towards the door.

"But what, little brother? Spit it out, I know you want to. How did you expect us to rest peacefully when he's still out there?" Asks Glenn, reaching up to tighten his ponytail. Glenn hadn't changed at all. Still obsessed with his hair, still clearly following that 5 step skin routine he was so insistent on, still had that one stupid strand of hair that was more wavy than the others and refused to sit flat upon his head, still Glenn. He was still Glenn. Felix feels a pang in his heart. His brother... He felt like home.

"He took us from you, Felix." Says Rodrigue, nodding along.

"Shut up. You're wrong. Both of you gave up your lives for him. How foolish." Felix says through clenched teeth. The cold of the air was beginning to bite at him, but he didn't care. "Both of you left me for him! For him! You gave up your lives like fools for one man. That's what you chose to do. Why? Why couldn't you have just lived? Why is he so important?!" Felix screams.

"Felix, sweetheart, we didn't want to die for him. He only did it because we had to. This is all his fault, Felix. Blame Dimitri, not us. Right, father?" Says Glenn, the a small smirk on his face.

"Of course, my son. He did this to us, and you're the only person who can avenge us." Nods Rodrigue, a gentle smile on his face. It's been so long since Felix had seen that smile...

Felix clutches his throbbing head in his hands, "Get out of my head! Y-You're wrong! There is no avenging the dead! Go away!" Felix shouts into the cold air.

Glenn chuckles.

"Maybe you'll finally get it when you stop lying to yourself. You hate him, Felix. You always have." He purrs, leaning in.

"No! The war is over. He's saved us so many times and he's... he's... my friend!"

A sigh from Glenn. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I forgot about that phase where you couldn't do crap without your pretty little prince by your side. You were a damn cute kid, but damn were you annoying."

Rodrigue softly chuckles, "Glenn, my boy, that sharp tongue of yours truly is relentless."

Felix clenches his fist and tries to throw a punch at Glenn. His hand just goes through him and he falls back into the snow. So cold...

"So quick to resort to violence... You really just a kid, Felix. Just a lost, scared kid who's neck-deep in denial. He's a horrible man. Just open your eyes to the truth." Says Glenn, looking deeply, too deeply, into Felix's eyes. His glare was intense. Felix topped a step back..

"Indeed. How long is it going to take for you to avenge us, Felix?! How long is it going to take for you for bring us his head, like how you've wanted to for so many years?" Sighs Rodrigue, gently rubbing his temples from stress.

"Yeah, Felix. We've been waiting for too long. You're disappointing. We lost everything because of that boy..." Whispers Glenn, staring up at the pale sky.

Felix blinks and they're gone. He buries his face in his hands, tears burning at the edges of them. He shivers in the snow, sniffing from the cold.

One of his retainers comes running outside with a thick, wool blanket. "Lord Felix, please, I insist that you come inside. You're going to catch a cold." She says, offering him a hand.

Felix ignores it and stands up on his own. He stares hole into the ground. "Fine. But, um, I have a question." Felix says, hesitating. "Nevermind, forget I said anything." He needed time to think. Is this truly the right decision...? Felix sighs. Maybe it is. Glenn and Father can finally rest peacefully...

"Of course, my lord." His retainer nods, wrapping him in the blanket. "Would you like for me to brew you some tea? Margrave Gautier gave us a new blend from Almyra. He said that he's been saving it for you and that it's extremely spicy."

"Hmph, fine." He mutters, walking through the door and back into the warmth of his home. He sits down on the large couch in front of the fireplace, watching his retainer prepare the teapot. Father... Glenn... They're hurting. It's all his fault. I was stupid to think that they truly and willingly gave up their lives for him...

"My lord, if I may speak freely, why were you out there? You looked like you were in very much distress. Are you... okay?" The old woman asks, preparing the hot water.

"... Glenn. Father... I must avenge them." He whispers, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Pardon? I didn't quite catch that."

Felix stands up abruptly, tossing aside the blanket and slamming his hand down onto the table. "FATHER AND GLENN NEED ME! THEY'RE IN PAIN AND I'M SITTING AROUND AND BLUBBERING FOR NO REASON!" He scowls, "Make arrangements for me to travel to Fhirdiad as soon as possible. It's for important work."

"M-My lord, are you alright? You're not yourself..."

"You heard what I said. Make the arrangements. Now." He says, storming up the stairs to his study, abandoning his tea.

Felix sits down in the chair of his study, pulling at his own hair. Father, Glenn... No. This is what they would want.

He reaches over to a small, but effective, hunting dagger he kept on his desk. He gently runs his fingers over the textured, wooden handle of the blade. I've skinned so many animals with this... One more won't hurt.

The professor gave this dagger to him on his birthday. He remembers the day vividly. What would the professor say? Would they be disappointed in him? Or would they encourage him to walk his own path?

It doesn't matter, Felix. This is what you want, and it's all for us. For your family. This is the only way we can rest peacefully.

Felix takes a deep breath.

"I'm doing this for you. Both of you."

~~~~~~

It had been weeks since the day he first saw his father and brother begging him to allow them to rest peacefully. Every single day, their voices only grew louder. Felix felt like he was going insane. They were everywhere. Do something, Felix... Bring us his head...

And now, he was at the Palace in Fhirdiad.

Dimitri's advisor couldn't do anything but sigh upon seeing the Duke.

"Good morning, Duke Fraldarius. You requested a meeting with the king?"

Felix nods, "I did."

"For what? And please make it quick, he has an extremely busy schedule full of things much more important than you."

"Hmph," Grunts Felix, "I doubt it. I just... need to play him a visit. Just want to see how an old friend's doing, nothing more."

"Ugh," The young adviser sighs, "He should be taking a break from his papers soon, you can go on ahead to his room."

"Got it. Thank you." Felix mutters, already making his way to the king's office. Felix was dressed in his formal Duke robes. Truth be told, he hated them. It was hard to move quickly and the fashion choice is just... Felix shivers at the thought. He always knew his father had horrible taste, but when did it get this bad?! He made a mental note to commission a new outfit, perhaps something more similar to his war uniform. Practical and stylish, two things the Fraldarius family were always sure to balance. With the exception of his father, of course. What even was that mustache?! At least Glenn knew what he was doing. He cared about his outfits almost as much as he did his knighthood.

Felix can feel the knife inside his sleeve. It was lightweight and small, but it seemed to be dragging him down.

He feels a pair of eyes on him.

Felix turns around in a flash, hand instinctively reaching for the sword he always kept by his side regardless of what he was wearing.

There was nobody there.

Felix sighs and lowers his hand from his blade. "I'm sure I was just imagining things." He whispers to himself, continuing to walk through the carpeted halls of the palace. "Sir, are you alright?" Questions one of the knights who was assigned to his side for safety.

"Yes, my apologizes. Don't worry about me."

Felix continued to walk until the reached the large door on the highest floor of the palace. He remembers following his father here when he met up with Lambert.

Felix takes a deep breath. Glenn, Father... I am doing this for you. He knocks on the door firmly.

"You may come in." Responds a voice behind the door.

Felix opens the door and steps inside. "Hello, Dimitri."

Dimitri looks up from his paperwork, almost like an excited puppy. "Felix! Hello! What brings you here?" He smiles, pushing all his papers aside, "Pardon the mess, things have been rather hectic as of late!" He chuckles, standing up from his chair. Felix takes a good look at him. He looked... happy. His long, blond hair was tied up in a small ponytail in the back of his head, and the scar on his eye was healing nicely. He was dressed in a thin, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Around the desk was several broken quills. Felix would smile, but he couldn't. Not after what he was about to do.

"I just... wanted to visit, that's all. Can we... chat? We need to talk." Felix says, and he could've sworn that he heard a chuckle that sounded a bit too much like Glenn come from behind him. But he payed it no mind. Felix's imagination had been running rampant as of late.

"Of course!" The young king smiles and reverts his attention to the knights behind Felix, "May you please leave us alone for a bit?" They all left.

Felix's heart starts pounding faster in his chest.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Felix?" Dimitri asks, stepping close to Felix. Was this really the right choice..?

"You." Says Felix, grabbing the knife from his sleeve. He roughly shoves Dimitri against the wall, the bookshelves shaking from the force.

"Me?! Felix... What are you doing?" Dimitri asks in a panic.

"What father and Glenn couldn't!" He screams, plunging the knife into Dimitri's stomach. Dimitri gasps, "Stop this! Knigh-"

Dimitri tries to call for help, but he couldn't. Not when Felix was tackling him to the ground. Felix hovers over him.

"You took everything that I loved!" He screams, his face red with fury. Almost as red as the blood staining his hands. He takes the knife out and plunges it back into Dimitri's shoulder.

"They all died for you, you bastard!" Felix sniffs, tears stinging at his eyes.

"Felix... No... They died for what they... believed in." Dimitri says weakly, rolling them over so that he was on top. He stands up as fast as he can, shirt soaked with crimson. He attempts to stop the bleeding with his hands, but there was too much.

"You took them away from me. All my life, it was always Dimitri this, Dimitri that. Have you any idea how painful it was?! When Father came to me in tears, telling me that Glenn was gone because of you?! Of course you don't, you useless bastard!" Felix shouts, kicking at Dimitri's chest, knocking him down to the floor.

"Felix, stop this nonsense. It... hurts..." Dimitri whispers, his blood soaking into the wooden floor. But even so, he kept fighting. He tried to push himself back up.

"It hurts, huh?! Good!" Felix says, hot tears streaming down his face as he tackles Dimitri back down to the ground.

Felix grabs the knife again, holding it up to Dimitri's neck, applying just enough pressure to make him bleed.

"Glenn was hurting too." Felix whispers in the king's ear.

Felix removes the knife from his neck, and stabs him again. Again and again. "That one's," the plunges the knife into him once again, "for father!"

"YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM YOU! YOU TOOK THEM BOTH AWAY FROM YOU! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! YOU'LL PAY!"

"Felix.... why...?" Was all Dimitri could get out before collapsing, becoming as limp as a ragdoll.

Felix sobs, he can't stop sobbing. He holds the body close to him.

He looks down at his hands.

Red.

He looks at his clothes.

Red.

He only sobs harder.

"I-I'm sorry. Father... Glenn... You can rest easy now..."

The Knights come rushing in upon hearing the ruckus.

"Your Highness!" They scream.

There was so much blood, and Felix felt sick.

He clutches the body close to him, and he keeps sobbing. He couldn't stop sobbing, damnit.

The knight looks at him in horror, "You traitor! You bastard!"

Another one lifts him up by the neck. "I would kill you here and now, but where's the fun in that? Take him away."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"It's too late for apologies. He's gone! To hell with you!" He ties Felix's hands together, "I'm looking forward to watching you suffer.

[wegotstory]

Writing With Depression

Mark Twain. Stephen King. Sylvia Plath. J.K. Rowling

- Just a few successful writers who *suffered* from depression. I highlight ‘suffer’ because, contrary to many of the articles I found in preparation for this post claimed, depression is not for spicing up writing skills or sprinkling on for emotional depth. It’s often a crippling and debilitating illness. The writers above wrote *in spite* of their illness, which is remarkable, but most importantly their depression should not be romanticised as a muse for creative outlets.

If you are experiencing depression, how can you make sure your love for writing doesn’t fall by the wayside?

How To Write While Depressed

Let’s say you are experiencing a bout of depression, or you have been in a constant fight with it for some time, how can you make sure your love for writing doesn’t fall by the wayside?

Do it for you - Writing with the notion another set of eyes will judge you is a sure way to kill your confidence. So do it only for you. No pressure, no expectations, no chance of failing.

Every word is a win - Listen, any productive activity, however small, is a step in the opposite direction of what your depression would have you do. Celebrate every paragraph, sentence, phrase and word.

Do what is fun - Do you enjoy writing lists of names? Do it. Want to write a blog post on that obsession you have today? Go for it. Feel like joining a role-playing group? They’re waiting for you! You’ll be honing your skills without even trying.

Two words: Fan Fiction - Writing fan fiction is often looked at with cynical eyes, notions of unoriginality and ‘playing at being a writer’ making it seem like a step in the wrong direction. This is ridiculous! Writing FF requires an original plot, never-before-said dialogue, management of scenes and a dance with words unique to you. And since it’s for you, who cares what anyone else thinks?

Try something different - Before I experienced true depression, I did none of the suggestions above. I enjoyed writing stories and that was it. When my feelings got in the way of doing my usual, I felt like a failure. When a friend introduced me to new writing ventures she did for fun, I flourished. After a while, I was having so much fun *not failing* (after all, I had no expectations and no bar to reach) I slipped back into story writing as my barriers weren’t as hard to overcome. Most recently, I have tried my hand at poetry when I’m feeling overwhelmed. Why? Because I truly suck at poetry. I stink. And it’s okay because I’m doing it for me and occasionally, when something not-terrible comes onto the page, I feel proud of myself.

Set yourself up to win - So, you put time aside to write but when the time arrives you find yourself doing other things because the task of writing is intimidating. Boy, can I relate. Try this: before you reach your ‘writing time’, have 1 sentence that - once written - allows you to walk away. Maybe it’s that bit of dialogue that you thought of, or a 1 sentence summery of a fan fiction you’d like to read. When the time comes, write it. It’ll take less than a minute. If you keep writing beyond that, amazing, if not, you still wrote in your writing time. Win.

Write about it - It’s a common activity to write your pain and confusion into words, and if that helps you express some of your emotions then please do it! But if you aren’t ready to get deep or attempt at making beauty out of it, I still wholly recommend writing factually. Don’t litter it with metaphors or self-indulgent phrases when you do this, be blunt. Be honest with yourself, even if you want to delete it after you write it so no one else can see. Writing out your truth in a true and raw way can feel amazing and help sort out your thoughts later.

Never try to deal with depression on your own, from experience you can break out of it, or at least manage it better, with a little outside input. Friends. Family. Your community. There’s also a fantastic writing community online, and many will be feeling exactly as you do. If you need help finding a solid writing group, I’ve always got time for that kind of thing! ❤️

[erintoknow]

leave no room for anything

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

You need cover, you need an alibi, and you need a place to plan and work out your next criminal action. What could go wrong from combining all that? [Survival]

[Read on AO3]

Another day, another spike of adrenaline courses through you as you dive feet first through a stack of boxes, sending crates of delicate electronic equipment everywhere. You can hear alarms sound around you as the factory goes into full alert, the clanging of barring gates. You grin under the mirror sheen of your helmet. That suits you fine, keep the small fry penned up and out of the way? You’re too kind.

The wall in front of you collapses into dust thanks to the nanovores and you tear through the office, grabbing at papers at random. What you take doesn’t actually matter at this point, compromising their records is the goal here.

Damage done, you refer to your map, dissolve another wall and follow your thread out, back to the main entrance.

The woman standing in your way gives you pause. You’d been psyching yourself up for a rematch against Chen, but no, its Lady Argent, hands at her sides and poised to rush you. A half-circle of rent-a-cop security goons behind her block you in. “A factory, Puppetmaster? What, they stop inviting you out to parties?” She smirks and hunches down, fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.

Your face twitches under your helmet. “Don’t read the papers, Argent? It’s Ghost.” You hiss. Your voice, filtered through your helmet has a hollow, flat sound. You take a quick count of Lady Argent’s back-up, who’s most pliable to tying up the rest. None of the officers seem to trust Argent. Good. That makes this easier.

The woman of steel looks unimpressed. “Can’t say I care what you call yourself.”

That does it.

One of the rent-a-cop’s guns goes off ‘prematurely’, firing wide to your left, the rest follow in blind panic as you dive to the side. Argent is too focused on you, but with the Rat-King’s help you’re able to pull the rest of the goof troop into your song, pulling their attention in random directions. One of the shots dings Argent in her shoulder, bouncing off to through ground and to her credit she doesn’t look for the culprit, making straight for you.

You run your hand along the ground as you move, leaving a split in the asphalt as the Nanovores chew through material. Lady Argent tries to cut you off so you encourage two of the goons to stumble into her way as you continue your circle around them. You can’t afford to move slow enough for a deep groove, but if this works as planned, all you need is to prime the cut.

If it works.

Argent huffs, shoving one of the men the side, only for another to conveniently take position between the two of you. “Get out of the way!” It doesn’t slow her down for long, but it’s enough for you to finish the circle. Under your helmet you grin, heart pounding.

All that’s left is the magic word. You give the Rat-King the command to pull the strings and yank everyone back in.

You dash forward and slide down, just under the swipe of her claws. She turns to stab down at you as you come to halt. You roll out of the way and kick her arm aside on your way back up.

You check to make sure everyone’s inside the circle you’ve carved through the asphalt. “Heads up.” is all the warning you give before an explosion rocks the ground under everyone’s feet. A furious Argent diving towards you finds only empty space underneath her, and you leap back as the asphalt caves in.

When the dust clears you risk taking a quick check of everyone’s mental state; a lot of fear and alarm, some pain, but the headcount is still the same. You think.

Hopefully.

You shake your head. Focus. Don’t get distracted. Stay in control. You watch Argent and the rest pick themselves up, clear rubble off their buddies. You have to harden your heart against it, remember who they are, what they represent. “Next time,” you call down, “remember my fucking name!”

Admittedly, Argent makes it easier. She’s staring up at you, a single silver middle finger outstretched.

You don’t like the way she’s eyeing one of the support columns. Can she climb her way out? You don’t intend to stick around and see, it’s time to make yourself scarce.

–––

Every super villain needs a secret lair. A base of operations. Somewhere you can plan your next move, keep mission critical materials. If Ariadne is going to be stuck playing retired civilian, it’s even more important to keep her as separated as you can from Ghost’s activities.

Eventually the day will come when you have to cast off that identity completely, but two years isn’t long enough to make you eager to resume a life of being actively on the run from a government agency. You need to gather more influence – and protection – if you’re going to ever unmask without it being an immediate disaster.

To that end… Ariadne needs a cover. She needs a job, co-workers, hobbies. A new wardrobe. You need Ortega to take a breather and ease off on trying worm her way in and fix every little aspect of your life.

So you’ll combine the two.

Technically a ‘Melissa Simone’ owns the computer repair shop you’re standing in front of. Ms. Simone also interviewed and hired yourself and the middle-aged lady with greying hair now manning the front counter.

You put a hand on the front door, hesitating. You keep putting this off but… guess you better ‘officially’ meet your new co-worker.

A bell chimes as you step inside. Old computer advertisements adorn the walls while parts and models are neatly stacked into three aisles across the open front half of the room. The building itself is on the older side. Hopefully a bit more use will get it looking properly run down enough to seem like it’s always been a repair shop here.

The woman at the counter looks up with a smile, a phone pressed to her ear. She holds a finger up as you approach.

You didn’t hire Marcie for her customer service skills. You hired her because she’s a terminally incurious middle-aged woman who fully intends to spend as much of her time talking to friends on the store phone or otherwise shirking her duties as much as possible.

Leaning an arm against the counter you wait for her to finish her current conversation, drumming your fingers against the wooden countertop. Watch the clock on the wall tick the seconds by. Finally she hangs up and turns back to you with a tired expression. “Alright, what do you want?”

You put on a sickly sweet smile. “My name is Ariadne Becker? Y–your um… co-worker?”

Marcie blinks, frowns, then flushes red. “Oh!” She hurries out from behind the counter, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a customer.”

“I could tell.”

She puts her hand out and you give it a quick shake. “Are you really the only repairm–person here?”

“Eh.” You shrug, glancing at the beaded doorway to the back room. “If business ever picked up maybe it’d be worth hiring more.” Glance back to her, smile again. “For now, I’m it yeah. I don’t usually bother with – with um, the front entrance.”

“Well, if you ever need something from me, sweetie, you let old Marcie know, okay?”

You blink, not sure how to respond. She wasn’t this nice to Jane– ahem ‘Melissa Simone.’ “Uh. Y–yeah, sure. Thanks.” You cough. “Um… Ms. Simone gave you the – the rundown about the back right?”

Marcie looks at you, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “To stay the hell out? Yeah.” She leans in, “So… what are we fronting here sweetheart? Drugs? It’s drugs isn’t it.” She straightens her back with a dramatic sigh. “It’s always drugs.”

“I – what???” You stare at her. “W–we’re not – not ‘fronting’ anything!?”

She frowns. Is she… disappointed…!? “Oh? Really? Well. A job’s a job, I guess.”

“I… I just have a… very particular system. Okay?” You shove your hands into your pockets, looking away from her. Stare at the posters on the wall.

“Ah. You’re one of those.” One of those what? You can’t pick it up from her thoughts, just the sliding of her changing expectations. “Well, I’ll keep out of your hair, sweetie.” She steps aside, “It was nice to meet you Ariadne, dear.”

You walk past her in a daze. Push through the bed curtain into your ‘workshop.’ A central table has a pile of half-deconstructed computer cases, their silicon guts scattered haphazardly. A tool kit hangs from the wall alongside a clear plastic cabinet of replacement parts.

Hopefully the facade holds up. You don’t have much intention of actually doing computer repair work here. It’s more than a little concerning that Marcie of all people immediately jumped to the ‘criminal front’ explanation. Was hiring her a mistake? She doesn’t seem to actually care. Maybe you should go out of your way now and then to drum up business. Put some effort into looking legit.

Aside from the bathroom and breakroom, there’s one more room. Your actual workshop. The shop technically is built onto the side of an old warehouse. You’ve walled off most of the space, installed a hidden door, just inside next to the back door out.

You didn’t use up the entire warehouse. Just walled off a decent sized chunk. The rest has been dressed up. Mostly shelves of boxes full of bricks. Something that’ll pass at least cursory inspection.

The door slides open to your touch, keyed to your fingerprint. It springs back into place as you step past. The lights flicker on at low-power. Now here is where you can finally start to get shit done. Your armor is mounted to a secondary hidden compartment recessed into the far wall, next to a bed in case you need to crash or puppeteer Jane for a bit.

You’re particularly proud of the hiding place you’ve created for the Rat-King; an oversized lava lamp sits on the bedside table, a soft blue glow filling the room. Even if anyone breaks in here, anything of value will still be hidden. You’re not completely stupid.

One corner of the room is taken up by a bank of screens and a computer terminal. A system of motion detectors, CCTV, and trip alarms have been carefully set up over the past month in a two block radius around the shop. Nothing is coming near here without you getting some kind of record of it.

And then, last but not least, against one wall a full-length table stretches underneath a pristine corkboard.

Not pristine for long… You reach back into your pocket and pull out a wad of folded up, blood stained papers. The only thing you were able to salvage from the Marconi fiasco. Could have just pinned this while you were setting everything up, you guess.

But this feels more dramatic.

You grab a pin from the cork board and smooth out the creases with your other hand. Jam the paper to the middle of the board. A bill of sale for something called a ‘Regenerator.’ You don’t recognize the name of the buyer, but the listed seller is the personal assistant to Mayor Alvarez.

You pin a scattering of related articles next to the receipt, your prize from today’s factory theft. They’re all related to the sudden government take-over and closure of the regenerator’s parent company, PharmaCore.

What exactly is going on here; you have no idea. But it’s shady as shit, and that means it’s a point of attack. If you’re going to crack the damn city open, this is your starting point. You grab a pen and paper as you sit down at the desk.

You hum a tune under your breath as you work. Time to start planning out your next moves.

[p---leia]

Need a better user name

I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to write here, so, as a creative writer, I'll do my best. I am currently working on a rom/com. One of my supporting characters is an American Manga writer who happens to be popular in Japan. I know. It's a stretch. But I'm new to Manga, and IT IS CREATIVE FICTION. Her Manga pen name is LOVEY DOVEY, so I chose that as my pen name. ROFC -- sob sob. It is already chosen. See. In my magnificent brain, I am unique. How can anyone want to use the same name that I just created. LOL Anyway, I just changed the spelling. Lovie Dovie. whut? it's taken, too.... My uniquieness doesn't seem so unique. See Self Esteem slowly going down the drain.... BUT, I quickly came up with a 'doofer'. "p---leia" Can anyone guess who that really is? I know you figured it out before I asked. But, it's irrelevant as it is a 'doofer'. What do ya'll think of Quackenbush? ShiShi? M'Wani? Dautha? Ring-around-a-rose? (I like this one as a potential 'title') Too much? Too little? I don't know if there's a word limit. I can write all night. But it's been a busy day. And I'm ready to go to sleep. I missed my nap today. LOL Something I never did until I turned oldish.

Seveny-one is looming just ahead. I still have a good thirty years ahead of me, so I have time to complete those 80+ novels and short stories on my comuter. If I could just top coming up with ideas for something new, different, fresh, and wicked funny.

Is this a place to make good friends? I am currently a fan of Korean and Chinese drama and rom/com. I fell in love with King Tut when I was 14 -- (1964); and Pharoah Hatshepsut was my role model as a woman, also when I was 14. In fact, during that time I knew more about Ancient Egyptian history, their gods, and their death rituals. At least I knew this based on what was available in a small town high school library. No computers in those days. But the Librarian liked me, and helped me find books.

I also enjoy science fiction, but mostly from before the 1960s. Venus isn't the jungle it was back then. And Mars doesn't have bi-pedal quasi-intelligent life forms. It can still be written thusly, but will it sell? I hope so because one of my earlier, set aside, novels has a thriving culture, but it's like during our age of dinosaurs. Pretty sure it can work then, but it's written with a 1950s style.

While I don't believe in UFOs and ET, I do enjoy a good sci-fi read. Good movies -- has anyone watched one lately?

I don't believe in ghosts either, but I write about them. Well, they are such interesting topics. And you can do anything with them.

I do enjoy music. I grew up with those old Southern ballads like My Darling Clementine. But I never really learned the words because the music is just so 'inviting'. For almost 70 years I listened to that song, ignored the lyrics, and totally spaced on the melody. I prefer it played soft and low on a violin in a Waltz time. But, as research for a rom/com I'm working on, I pulled it up with lyrics on youtube. That made it easier to concentrate on the words. Oh My Goodness!!! I always thought it was a sad song, but it ended with me almost literally rolling on the floor in tear filled laughter. I'm not telling ya'll. You just have to listen for yourself. If you don't hear it, then your sense of humor is more stable than mine.

Like I said, I'm almost seventy-one, so I have to watch how and where I walk. My cat and dog both think they are in the will, and I swear they intentionally wrap themselves around my feet, in an attempt to make me fall down the steps. Then there's those old shoes I won't throw away. There's nothing wrong with them except the sole is broken, and the heel catches on the grass in my yard. And sometimes when I bend over to pull weeds from the flower bed, I don't stop 'going down', and have nearly kissed the potting soil more than once. smh And that old saying "take two steps forward and three steps back" now has clear meaning to me. BUT .... just let me hear a tune from my childhood (1950s rock n roll is the best dance music). I can get up and rock n roll through a complete song without stumbling. Then there's Nicholas Rimsky-Korsakov and his Flight of the BumbleBee or the Song of Scheherazade to dance a ballet with. I don't leap like I used to as a kid, but I can still do some smooth moves. When my grandkids visit, they hurry through whatever room I'm in when the music is playing.

Well, this is just a small part of what p---leia is like.

Is there anyone out there who might strike up a conversation just for a few minutes? Like I said, I'm new to this. I'm used to FB. But that is so boring. I don't think any of my friends want to learn a new language, hear a new old tune, or want to play jokes on their doctor and refuse to take their meds. (just kidding -- I'm being good -- sort of)

Oh, before I go: I am currently working on a rom/com that went all dark and scarey. So I scrapped it and started again, keeping only the romance and comedy. Wondering if anyone would care to advise if my first page/ first paragraph/ first sentence is a hook? (When I go fishing, I never catch anything with a hook. The last time I did catch a fish, I was 8 mos. pregnant with my son, (1977) and was trying to help an old lady pull her fish in from the water. I had the net and leaned over to get it, slipped in the mud and fell into the water, and caught a totally different fish!!!) So, hooks don't always work. I just need some advice on which way to go. I have Gypsy blood, and just can't always settle on one location/direction. LOL Bedtime! Goodnight, and hoping to hear from someone.

[another-sonic-blog]

The Dark Prince: Epilogue: Not The Dark Prince

"Today is the first Independence anniversary for the Acorn Kingdom! Not too long ago, the Acorn Kingdom was under the commands of their tyrant King. Everyone expected the Rebellion leader Princess Sally Acorn to take over the throne. However, informants declare that a secret member of the Rebellion, whose face had not been revealed yet, has been picked by the people of the Acorn Kingdom to take over the throne. He goes by the name of-"

"Cream, stop watching that!", Amy turned off the TV of her leaving room.

"But they were going to reveal the name of the new King!" Cream said winning.

"You have been too obsessed with this new King, you don't even know his name nor his face...what's with this guy anyway?" Amy said as she looked at herself in the mirror, making sure that her hair looks decent for work.

"He is just so mysterious! The news is always talking about him and about the things he has done or the Acorn Kingdom...Weirdly enough, the Acorn Kingdom never let a single picture of him infiltrate...I wonder why?" Cream said thoughtfully.

"He is a secret Rebellion member, if his identity was revealed, then the Kingdom would probably go after his loved ones."

"Rouge?!"

Amy and Cream turned around to find Rouge drinking a cup of coffee. "What?"

"How long have you been there?"

"Half an hour", She said as she took a sip. "I used to be spy honey...I remember some old tricks."

"I forgot that just two years ago you used to work for G.U.N hehe... well at least you are doing good as a self-defense trainer." Cream said as she made room for her bat friend to sit with her on the sofa.

"And you are doing good as a Pre-K teacher yourself Cream.", Rouge took a seat next to her rabbit friend.

"I am really happy you are here Rouge but I am just leaving to work," Amy said as she opened the door, ready to leave.

"But we even haven't talked about the wedding yet!" Rouge said almost screaming as she saw Amy leave.

"We will talk about it as soon as I get back home!

And with that Amy left.

Rouge and Cream looked at each other, already knowing what they were going to do next.

They turned the TV and watched the breaking news.

The news reporter was shown quickly on the TV, still announcing the breaking news. "Who would have thought that the new King of the Acorn Kingdom will be no other than the re-owned worldwide superhero-"

Then, both Rouge and Cream yelled in unison...

"IT'S HIM!"

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It has been another busy day at Momo's Cafe, AKA Amy's cafe. Although she was thankful that her cafe had become more popular these days, she was still thankful that everything was working well.

She looked up at her phone, looking at it proudly, she was able to buy herself a smartphone. She received a text message from Sonic clearly saying: "Can't wait to see you!"

Amy smiled with the text, it has been two weeks since she last Sonic and she was super excited to him. She texted back: "I am cleaning up at the cafe, you can come if you want."

"Alright :)" He texted back.

She put her phone away and put on some music to start cleaning up. Her last employee left and since Amy was the owner, she made a thing that it must be her the first one to arrive and the last one to leave.

To leave

It has already been two years and still no signs of him. She really wonders if she is worth waiting for him this long. She wanted him to be there for the wedding, but it seems like she wasn't going to see him anytime soon.

Amy used a towel to clean the underpart of the cashier's table. As if she was under it, she heard the cafe's door open. Steps getting closer to her as they finally made a stop in front of the cashier, waiting to get service. Amy was having a bit of difficulty getting herself up from the underpart of the table, as she hit her head.

"Can I have a cup of black coffee?"

Amy heard a someone from the other side of the cashier say, as she stopped from touching her head, she quickly stood up to face her client.

"Sorry sir, we are closed-"

This must be a dream.

Amy must have hit her head too hard because the one standing right in front of her, asking her for a cup of black coffee was no other than Shadow the Hedgehog.

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This wasn't like in the books, where both protagonists end up kissing each other after a long time of not meeting.

Their feelings were never like that, and Shadow was aware of that. Before, Shadow would be worried about that fact. Now, it didn't matter, it was unique. It wasn't fictional....

their feelings were real.

And now they were here, alone, drinking coffee on the place where everything began. Quietly, their eyes crossed each other, not knowing where to star.

"So...how you have been?" Amy asked trying not to make eye contact. Shadow took a sip of his coffee before answering, keeping his cool.

"I've been alright"

That was it. Shadow couldn't get words out of his mouth. He really was trying to make any motion possible to show that he was happy to be here.

"What-um..what you?"

"What?"

"What about you?" Shadow finally was able to pronounce his words properly. He didn't know why he was getting so nervous for. It was just Amy, the girl who he had a crush on since forever, nothing to be worried about right?

"I've well since you left two years, I kept working on my cafe and now it's gotten more popular. Also that I've been busy planning a wedding." Amy said simply, still trying to fully realize that the Dark Prince was in front of her.

"Oh...A wedding?...things between you and Sonic must be pretty good then." Shadow sighed, what was he expecting? He clearly told Sonic to go after Amy, and for him to make her happy. It had been two years, so of course their relationship had developed. Of course Sonic would want to marry her, who wouldn't? At least Shadow would do it in a heartbeat.

So if he knew...why was there still a pain in his heart?

Oh, yes...because he had hoped that Amy would have waited for him. But he knew that it would be selfish of him to ask her to do so.

"Ummm, yes we are good but I am planning Rouge and Knuckles' wedding. They asked me to do it, so of course, I said yes. Don't get me wrong, I love planning but it can be stressing at times."

"Wait, so Sonic and you?"

"What about us?" Amy said a bit weird out by Shadow's question.

"You know..you both are...a thing?"

"No, we never dated. I couldn't bring myself to think about anyone else after what Sonic told me." Amy took a sip once again from her cup, already knowing where this was going.

"What did Sonic told you?"

Shadow was panicking. Sonic couldn't have told Amy about the letter...right?

"Mmm...where should I start?... I am not perfect, and I may have hurt you-"

"STOP!"

Shadow could feel his cheeks getting hotter by the second. He had never felt this flustered before. He hated himself as he realized that he had lost his cool.

"I am sorry...I won't talk about it again." Amy said smiling a bit, proud that she made Shadow get pink like that.

A few minutes passed again in silence as Shadow had gotten his composure back. "So...you waited for me? Although I told Sonic to be with you?"

"Sonic always put others before himself. He knew that you loved me so he stepped aside. He asked me if I was ok with it...you know...If I was ok with waiting..."

Amy sighed as she remembers the scene clearly from two years ago. Sonic showing her the letter Shadow had left. Reading Shadow's true feelings was what made Amy come up with an answer.

"And I said yes."

For a moment, Shadow couldn't' hear anything but his heartbeat. For a small fraction of a second, Shadow couldn't see anything but Amy. That 'Yes' stumble his ears again and again, almost like a melody.

It may be a simple word, but for him...it meant everything.

All of this time, he was scared that all previous feelings Amy had for him were gone. But now, seeing her eyes glow like that as if she was about to cry. Her lips trembling, and her body ready to jump into his arms.

"Are you still looking for an extra worker?" Shadow smiled, hoping that his words will resonate with her.

"Yes..." Amy took one second to stop her voice from cracking. " I can't promise you a good paycheck but...I promise you that I'll never fire you... Will the Dark Prince comply to these terms?"

Shadow couldn't wait to get Amy into his arms. After two long years of being part of the Rebellion and learning more about himself, he was ready to start living. Although he still had questions about love and how it should be treated, he knew that the only way to learn was to experience it.

And he wanted to experience everything with Amy. Their time was ending, the two lovers had no one to stop them from loving each other. It was the beginning of the end, but what a beautiful ending it was.

Sonic had finally arrived at Amy's Cafe but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the beautiful moment the two were having. At last, his promise to Shadow had been fulfilled and there was nothing else to do but watch. He smiled out of happiness as he watched the two share a small kiss. He learned to watch from afar and appreciate the little things life brings him. He was truly happy for them both.

Shadow smiled and held hands with Amy. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly as to savor the moment, not wanting to let go, he sighed and answered her question...

"I am not the Dark Prince anymore...but if you want, call me the Dark King."

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The Dark Prince Epilogue: END

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Previous Chapter: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/185970145230/its-been-a-while-since-sonic-had-seen-shadow-he

The Dark Prince: Chapter Nine: A Confession

A/N: This story came out from a small idea, now it has become a complete story.

Personally, I think this is the best ShadAmy fan-fiction I've written. I want to thank everyone who has followed this story to the very end. Especially those who comment and inspired me to keep writing.

There's really not much to say, I will probably take a break from writing stories with multiple chapters. I'll like to get my ideas going by writing one-shot stories, so of course, if anyone has prompt ideas feel free to message me.

Thank you once again to everyone who read "The Dark Prince" I have loved writing this story and its sad to let it go.

But all things that start well, end well.

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[saventhhaven]

You Bring Out the Worst in Me

Pairing: demon!Dean x demon!reader

Tags: demon!Dean, demon!reader, sexual innuendos, suuuuuper dark and sexy

Word Count: 1,800 O_o (I didn’t think it was that long lmao)

A/N: This was a request from anonymous! 

Hi there! I really love your fics. Could you do a Dean x secret demon! Reader. Sorta based off the song How You Remind Me by Nickelback? Thanks!

This one was honestly so much fun to write. The dark vibe is unlike anything I’ve written before, so you’ll have to tell me what you thought! Thanks for requesting!

(Gif not mine)

Being a demon didn't come with many difficulties. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Your lifestyle was one you were sure others envied. After all, it was literally your job to give in to temptation and wreak havoc on the world whenever possible. You could do practically whatever you wanted - granted that you didn't interfere with Crowley's plans, which you never had. As a result, you had become one of his most trusted and loyal servants over the years. If Crowley needed something done, you were his go-to. You specialized in dirty work. But several years ago now, he had tasked you with your most significant assignment yet. With his off and on alliance with the Winchesters, it was important that he always knew what they were planning.

"The best way for us to do that," Crowley had told you, "is for me to send one of my most committed to be in their presence at all times. Someone to live with them. Befriend them. Gain their trust." The drumming of his fingers on the throne came to a stop as he turned his gaze on you. "I mean you, my dear Y/N." You bowed your head in a sign of both respect and submission.

"Of course, my King. I am honored to have been chosen for this task." Crowley gave you a small, genuine smile, something exceedingly rare.

"There is no one in all of Hell that I trust more than you, Y/N."

"Nor I, you, Sire. I would do anything you asked of me." Crowley nodded as he stood, walking to pour himself a drink.

"I'm aware," he said over his shoulder. "Which is why I wouldn't want anyone else to do this for me."

"For how long do you require me to report back my findings?" you questioned.

"Keeping you among the Winchesters could prove to be a most valuable asset. You will remain there for as long as necessary." Clasping your hands behind you, you pushed your shoulders back in determination.

"Then, I will become their most trusted confidant for as long as you see fit. If they so much as breathe in a manner of suspicion, you will know within a second." Crowley put his glass down, the sound echoing throughout the otherwise empty throne room.

"You've been a most loyal servant, Y/N."

"Thank you, my King." He fell silent, examining you for a moment before turning away.

"If you should fail on your endeavor, you won't be coming back." You frowned again, not attempting to hide it this time. He had never spoken of failure with you before.

"Sire?"

"The Winchesters will not take kindly to being spied on or lied to by one of our kind. If discovered, I doubt you will make it out alive." You regained your composure, a newfound resolve resetting your face into a blank slate.

"I will not fail you."

"Then you may take your leave," Crowley instructed. "You've much to prepare for if you're to play the part of a human hunter convincingly."

Since that day, any news or information you had to offer went through a messenger demon. It was too risky to speak to Crowley in person now. Anything that could raise even the slightest bit of suspicion had to be avoided. The boys had been betrayed more than once before, you knew that. As a result, gaining their trust had proven to be exceedingly difficult, although, you had been expecting that. After several weeks of helping them on cases, though, you were in. They began opening up to you, treating you as one of their own, until finally, they offered you a room back at their bunker. The whole process had been tiring, no doubt, and after befriending you, it had still taken a few months for them to suggest that you stay with them, but you knew the wait was worth it. The future results were going to be fruitful. Even on a near-impossible assignment, you still had yet to fail your King. He had asked you to gain their trust, and that was exactly what you had done. Especially Dean's. What you had with him was incredibly complicated, and you knew a relationship with a hunter was frowned upon by your brothers and sisters, but it had been a much easier path to get him to open up. The poor man had some serious feelings for you, and you supposed in your own sort of twisted way, you reciprocated those feelings. Although, you knew you were probably feeling things that weren't real. You were just biased because of all the sex. Dean's feelings, however, couldn't be faked if he tried. You had your suspicions that he may have even been in love with you. And that made him vulnerable; a vulnerability that you had every intention of using towards your advantage. You knew from the start that Dean would be much less likely to believe your fictional backstory and place his trust in you than his younger brother. But this? This made it easy. You had spent many hours fabricating your sad tale of why you became a hunter and even longer solidifying the details to make it all seem real. In short, your father and older brother had been killed by a malevolent spirit. Your mother had gone on a grief-driven rampage and practically gone crazy in the process of searching for ways to kill the thing. Eventually, she lost her last shred of sanity, and the same spirit killed her too. But in the seven years before her death, your mother had raised you like a hunter. By the age of ten, you knew how to fire a shotgun and perform a full exorcism. In Hell, you had heard the name John Winchester many times. He had been notorious for seeking out the demon Azazel that killed his wife. With that kind of grief to haunt him, you could only imagine how he must have raised the boys, which is why the part of your story how you were raised as a hunter seemed to be the perfect touch to fully get the boys' sympathy. That story was your masterpiece - a lie better than any you had ever told before. And the Winchesters fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

After Dean's transformation into a demon, Sam began to lean on you for support more than ever. You knew how badly he was hurting. He was willing to do just about anything to get his brother back, and that made it especially dangerous. For him. When Sam had finally captured his older brother and brought him back to the bunker, you couldn't help but look on in awe. Dean radiated dark power in a way that damn-near overwhelmed you. His anger and grief fueled the dark flames that burned away what was left of his conscience. This was a totally new and improved Dean. His morals and good-naturedness were holding him back before, but now with those gone, he was stronger (and in your opinion) even sexier than before.

Now, here you were alone in the bunker with him. Sam had gone to a nearby hospital to get blood for a cure that would turn Dean human again. You weren't going to let that happen. Now that you had your very own Dean Winchester in Demon form, there was no way you were letting him go. As you approached Dean in the bunker's dungeon, you felt his eyes land curiously on you.

"You just can't stay away, can you?" His bright green eyes melted to black, and you couldn't help but smirk. After all this time, he still had no idea what you really were. Stalking around the devil's trap, you eyed the man hungrily. This was where things got complicated. How were you supposed to get him out without getting stuck in the trap yourself? "You know nothing I ever felt for you was real, right?" he jeered. "It was all an act because I felt sorry for you." You snorted.

"Keep talking, Dean," you replied. "Your words have no meaning to me." He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You really think I can't get under your skin?" he asked. "We've been together for three years, Y/N. I know things about you that you don't even know yourself." You had to bite back a laugh as he continued to ramble on. "Sam and I wouldn't have offered to take you in in the first place if you hadn't been so damn pitiful. You can't take care of yourself, you're not a good hunter. I mean, seriously, is there anything you can do?" You took a few steps back and pulled the gun the boys had given you from your waistband, clicking a bullet into place.

"Trust me." You aimed the weapon. "You don't know the half of it." The sound of the gun firing echoed throughout the room for a few short moments before everything went quiet again. Dean stared at you from his chair where he was bound, surprised that he hadn't been your target. You tossed the gun aside, bobbing your head at where you had shot. Dean followed your gaze to the floor, where the slightest notch from your bullet had broken the outer ring of the devil's trap. Disbelief flashed in his eyes for a millisecond before he ripped free of his bonds, slamming you roughly into the wall nearest to him.

"Wrong move," he snarled as he glowered at you. You laughed, earning a confused look from him.

"Really, Dean?" you said. "You still haven't figured it out? Even now? Can't you feel it?" For the first time since meeting him, you flashed him your true eyes. "I'm on your team. Well, I guess you're on mine now, actually." Dean's frown almost instantly turned into a heated smirk.

"How long?" he inquired.

"Since before we even met." He gave you a crooked grin, eyes still black.

"You Crowley's pet?" It was a good question. Since Dean had gone demon, you hadn't heard from your King at all. Perhaps he had forgotten about you altogether. You leaned forward and pulled on Dean's bottom lip with your teeth.

"Maybe," you answered coyly. "But I might be in the market for a new master if you're offering." Dean growled, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, and digging his fingers into your hips with the other. The sound of a door shutting above your heads stopped all movement.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice called. A wicked grin spread across your face.

"Sammy's home," you cooed. Dean released your wrists.

"We'll finish this later," he assured, black eyes gleaming as he sauntered towards the door. "Sammy," he called tauntingly.

This was going to be fun.

Thank you so much for reading, guys! If you liked it, please give me feedback! I love hearing from you!

As always, links to my masterlist, inbox, and taglist are in the bio! <3

[coffeebased]

I won’t be the first or last person to marvel at how quickly February whizzed past, especially in comparison to January’s gauntlet. To be completely fair to February, it had the ongoing COVID-19 international epidemic, as well as the ABS-CBN shutdown crisis, the anti-terrorism bill, the reminder that historical revisionism re: the Marcos dictatorship is alive and well… and those were just the actual headlines.

I must digress before I spiral.

I read 12 books in February, half of which were newly released in this month. I’ve split my post up into three parts like I did last month: one-shots, parts of series, and re-reads. It seems to be working well for me.

  Prosper’s Demon by K.J. Parker

The unnamed and morally questionable narrator is an exorcist with great follow-through and few doubts. His methods aren’t delicate but they’re undeniably effective: he’ll get the demon out—he just doesn’t particularly care what happens to the person.

Prosper of Schanz is a man of science, determined to raise the world’s first philosopher-king, reared according to the purest principles. Too bad he’s demonically possessed.

After I read Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City last year, I knew that I wanted more by Parker. I considered delving into his back catalog, which I still will probably do, but I saw that he was releasing a new book in Feb 2020, so I jumped on that first. Prosper’s is exactly up my alley, what with the discussions of morality and the greater good with demons, and quite a bit of engineering. I’d admired the voice of the main character in Sixteen because he was dry and very caught up in doing what needed to be done, and the main character has the same appealing values. It’s a short read, but it sticks in the teeth and fills the belly.

  Paladin’s Grace by T. Kingfisher

Stephen’s god died on the longest day of the year…

Three years later, Stephen is a broken paladin, living only for the chance to be useful before he dies. But all that changes when he encounters a fugitive named Grace in an alley and witnesses an assassination attempt gone wrong. Now the pair must navigate a web of treachery, beset on all sides by spies and poisoners, while a cryptic killer stalks one step behind…

Kingfisher, also known as Ursula Vernon, tends to write capable and damaged characters falling in with each other and foiling plots. She also tends to write paladins very well, which is a personal delight. I always enjoy a Kingfisher story, because the characters do the sensible thing more often than not, and she deals with trauma very compassionately, from what I suspect is a personal viewpoint. Her books are also usually very funny, very disturbing, and no-nonsense, scratching that Terry Pratchett Witch itch when I miss him very much. Grace is along the same lines, with a good solid HEA that leaves everyone, including the reader, satisfied.

  Kindred, a Graphic Novel Adaptation by Octavia Butler, adapted by Damian Duffy and illustrated by John Jennings

I lost an arm on my last trip home.

Home is a new house with a loving husband in 1970s California that suddenly transformed in to the frightening world of the antebellum South.

Dana, a young black writer, can’t explain how she is transported across time and space to a plantation in Maryland. But she does quickly understand why: to deal with the troubles of Rufus, a conflicted white slaveholder–and her progenitor.

Her survival, her very existence, depends on it.

This searing graphic-novel adaptation of Octavia E. Butler’s science fiction classic is a powerfully moving, unflinching look at the violent disturbing effects of slavery on the people it chained together, both black and white–and made kindred in the deepest sense of the word.

Kindred, the novel, is on my Next 20s list. I had meant to read it before I read the GN, but picked up the graphic novel based on a friend’s recommendation. The graphic novel is searingly painful, and I enjoyed reading it, but there are parts of it that feel slightly disjointed. I’m not sure if it’s because of the time travel, or if it’s an adaptation problem. It made me want to read the novel immediately, which is what I am reading right now. I don’t think that I’ll be able to properly synthesise my thoughts about this book until I’ve read the original.

    Mirror: The Mountain and The Nest by Emma Rios and Hwei Lim

A mysterious asteroid hosts a collection of strange creatures – man-animal hybrids, mythological creatures made flesh, guardian spirits, cursed shadows – and the humans who brought them to life. But this strange society exists in an uneasy truce, in the aftermath of uprisings seeking freedom and acceptance, that have only ended in tragedy. As the ambitious, the desperate and the hopeful inhabitants of the asteroid struggle to decide their shared fate, a force greater than either animal or human seems to be silently watching the conflict, waiting for either side to finally answer the question: what is worthy of being human?

Recommended to me by a new friend who’d heard I was into sci-fi and graphic novels, who absolutely hit the nail on the head with this rec. The art is beautiful, dreamy, and layered, and it keeps you tied to the story as the authors build what is a magnificent construction in your head. The authors do some really lovely things with timeskips that I have no idea how to talk about without spoiling anything, and I only regret that we weren’t able to linger through the second volume. I’m don’t know why there isn’t more of Mirror, but I do appreciate how they tied everything up as well as they could in two volumes. Looking forward to more like this in the future.

  Heartstopper: Volume Three by Alice Oseman

In this volume we’ll see the Heartstopper gang go on a school trip to Paris! Not only are Nick and Charlie navigating a new city, but also telling more people about their relationship AND learning more about the challenges each other are facing in private…

Meanwhile Tao and Elle will face their feelings for each other, Tara and Darcy share more about their relationship origin story, and the teachers supervising the trip seem… rather close…?

You can read all of Heartstopper and its future updates here. Heartstopper is a lovely slice of life comic, PG13 at best, that really takes me back to my own mid-teens. The story is centered around the developing relationship of two young boys, Charlie and Nick, and it really deals with it respectfully. It tackles a lot of teen issues without being too preachy about it, which is probably the least inspiring thing I could have written about it, and integrates it deftly into the story. The art style is adorable and really complements the sweet story. This volume, just released this month, revolves around a class trip to Paris, and there are some shenanigans that you’ll have to read for yourself.

  Sixty Six Book 2 by Russell Molina and Mikey Marchan

Kuwento ni Celestino Cabal. Kabebertdey niya lang. Mayroon siyang natanggap na regalo na ngayo’y unti-unti niyang binubuksan. Ika nga ng matatanda, “Huli man daw at magaling, maihahabol din.”

The story of Celestino Cabal. His birthday has just passed. He received a gift that he now gets to open, bit by bit. As the old saying goes, “Better late than never.”

This is the synopsis of the first book. There isn’t an official synopsis for the second book online, and I hesitate to write my own. Sixty Six Book 2 was released during February Komiket, and since I had been waiting for it for a few years, I had to go to the event even though everyone’s been iffy about going into crowded spaces due to COVID-19. I was excited to read this but unfortunately, I don’t think it capitalised on the foundation set in Book 1. The artist was different, and I admired their work on a technical level, as well as their humorous use of WASAK as a sound effect. I don’t know if there’ll be a third book, but the author has made themselves a little leeway for that possibility at the end of this volume.

  Thank You, Jeeves, Jeeves #5 by P.G. Wodehouse

The odds are stacked against Chuffy when he falls head over heels for American heiress Pauline Stoker. Who better to help him win her over but Jeeves, the perfect gentleman’s gentleman. But when Bertie, Pauline’s ex-fiance finds himself caught up in the fray, much to his consternation, even Jeeves struggles to get Chuffy his fairy-tale ending.

This book was in my next 20s! So I’m accomplishing one of my 2020 reading goals, yay! But hot damn there is some racist language in this book. Every time I was finally sinking into the story boom! Racist language! And I know that it was because of the time it was published, like I know that academically, but oof. That aside, the story is solid. It’s a comedy of manners AND errors with Jeeves ex machina, as per usual, but this is the first full Jeeves novel I’ve read, the rest were short story collections, and it was good to see the characters take more space. It certainly made the comedic payoff a lot stronger.

But oof.

  Die Vol. 2: Split the Party by Kieron Gillen, Stephanie Hans, and Clayton Cowles

No one can escape DIE until everyone agrees to go home. Or rather, no one can escape DIE until everyone who is alive agrees to go home. The second arc of the commercial and critical hit of bleakly romantic fantasy fiction starts to reveal the secrets of the world, and our heroes’ pasts. Yes, they can’t escape DIE. They also can’t escape themselves. Collects issues #6-10 of DIE

CHARACTERISATION. There’s a lot more breathing space in this newly-released volume of Die and I live for that! The first volume was a lot of the characters running from one place to the next and we, as readers, were being given the sense of setting. But volume two, you can feel Gillen just finally branching out and hitting us with their joined histories. I want to see more of how these older players will be dealing with the actions of their teenage selves, and I think the third volume will really show what the comic’s capable of. I’m really looking forward to that.

  False Value, Rivers of London #8 by Ben Aaronovitch

Peter Grant is facing fatherhood, and an uncertain future, with equal amounts of panic and enthusiasm. Rather than sit around, he takes a job with émigré Silicon Valley tech genius Terrence Skinner’s brand new London start up – the Serious Cybernetics Company.

Drawn into the orbit of Old Street’s famous ‘silicon roundabout’, Peter must learn how to blend in with people who are both civilians and geekier than he is. Compared to his last job, Peter thinks it should be a doddle. But magic is not finished with Mama Grant’s favourite son.

Because Terrence Skinner has a secret hidden in the bowels of the SCC. A technology that stretches back to Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage, and forward to the future of artificial intelligence. A secret that is just as magical as it technological – and just as dangerous.

The last Rivers of London book finished the first major arc of the series. It was a succession of explosions contained in a novel. So I was wondering what kind of tone Aaronovitch would be setting with False Value. Would it be all action, immediately? A filler story? I just wanted more Peter Grant. It could literally be an entire novel of Peter going to America to visit the Smithsonian museums and I would be on that.

False Value is a slow story but does a lot of table setting for the next arc. While the case of the book feels very small and contained, you can see that they’re being pulled into the larger world of magic. I did have a hard time with the first few chapters, but I’m not sure if this is a problem of the book, or because I sailed straight into it after the Jeeves book I had been reading.

I finished the book too quickly and now I have to wait for the next one. Bother.

    The Thief, The Queen’s Thief #1 by Megan Whalen Turner

The king’s scholar, the magus, believes he knows the site of an ancient treasure. To attain it for his king, he needs a skillful thief, and he selects Gen from the king’s prison. The magus is interested only in the thief’s abilities.

What Gen is interested in is anyone’s guess. Their journey toward the treasure is both dangerous and difficult, lightened only imperceptibly by the tales they tell of the old gods and goddesses.

It’s March now, so my friends and I are starting on the second book in our read-along of The Queen’s Thief. I wrote last month that I was worried about how my friends would take the series, but really I needn’t have thought about it at all. The book stands well on its own, and my friends all got into the story. I hesitate to say that they loved it because there are four more books in the series, but they were definitely into it. Some of them had a hard time sticking to the two chapters a day schedule because Turner’s prose really just pulls you in.

I still love Gen, and I’m excited to relive his character growth.

  The Farthest Shore, The Earthsea Cycle #3

Darkness threatens to overtake Earthsea. As the world and its wizards are losing their magic, Ged — powerful Archmage, wizard, and dragonlord — embarks on a sailing journey with highborn young prince, Arren. They travel far beyond the realm of death to discover the cause of these evil disturbances and to restore magic to a land desperately thirsty for it.

I’m reading Tehanu, the last book of the Cycle, now, and I’m scared of ending the series. It’s given me so much joy and peace these past few months. I slipped right into it after finishing The Farthest Shore, remembering that they overlap slightly, and that’s done a lot to soften the blow of the third book. Re-reading Farthest at this age, when things have been losing their colour and flavour, where I have to fight harder to keep myself honest and keep myself ‘good’, hits differently. I’ve been recovering, and the bitterness that Ged has over the loss of his mastery is too real to me. Of course, it’s a good book, but it hurts.

—

All right, that’s it for now. I’ll probably be popping in to post a little about Komiket and some other things I’ve been reading next week or so, so please keep a weather eye out for that next post!

February Reading Round-Up I won't be the first or last person to marvel at how quickly February whizzed past, especially in comparison to January's gauntlet.

[umccall71]

Decision of a lifetime

Chapter 16

Book: The Royal Romance

Characters: king Liam x Lady Sexy

Rating:Mature

Word Count: 1950

Disclaimer: All characters used are sole property of Pixelberry. I am simply borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

Summary: Liam x (mc)Sexy knew they were destined for a lifetime together, but his world had other plans. The couple share a fateful night that would forever alter their future. Does fate stand strong together or banish his love to the shadows?

A/N: Sorry but I have been super busy with family situations. Thank you for the patience.💗💗

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It had been a week since the royal wedding and the official queen was resting per doctor’s orders.Liam was taking no chances when it came to his wife and child.He knew that his dream was realized in spite of his father and cohorts trying to end Sexy’s life and his happiness.They were spending the afternoon leisurely lounging in the royal quarters. The doctor had given them a clean bill of health. Both Sexy and the baby were well and out of danger. Liam stood in the doorway watching Sexy in adoration as she laid on the chaise lounger in the sitting area overlooking the garden. “God you are so beautiful,'' he smiled as he gazed at her leaning back gently stroking her growing belly. There seemed to be this sense of peace within her aura. She sported a flowing tunic top that split at the belly , a light pair of 3⁄4 leggings, and bare feet .

“I am in love with that belly love”, Liam chuckled as he locked his baby blue eyes on her now prominent baby bump. Sexy’s visible belly was proudly on display and undeniable at this point. “ your pregnant belly is an official bump!” Liam dropped to his knees aside the chaise lounge and his full lips landed on Sexy’s exposed belly. He closed his eyes and his long fingers traced the curve of her belly and sides. Liam could not stop smiling at the sight of his wife as the sun danced on the golden flex in her hazel eyes. The bronze glow accentuated her soft skin soothingly.

Sexy reached her fingers down and grazed liam's head lovingly. “I love you my king… will you feel the same way when I can barely walk around and see my feet?”, she teased. “I have a question Liam… will you love me when I can no longer see my feet?” Liam paused momentarily before lifting Sexy’s hands to his lips, “ I will enjoy watching every inch of your beautiful body transform as you grow our baby. Do you realize your were already the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, but in light of your pregnancy… your beauty ...your radiant .. is breathtaking Sexy.”, he kissed her hands. Liam's hands slide up, cupping Sexy’s face as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. Sexy felt breathless as liam's tongue tangled with her own. Liam softly massaged her tongue as they both got lost in the exchange of the fiery kiss. “ I cant believe that you are twelve weeks pregnant already. I can’t wait until we meet our little button”, the excitement radiated from his eyes. “Speaking of 12 weeks...and with you being out of the woods… I think we need to discuss how and when we will make the announcement of the heir.”

Sexy looked away briefly as she contemplated his word, his request. “ Liam, I know we will eventually have to let the kingdom in on our blessing… but there will be questions about how far along we are… when did we learn of the pregnancy...why we waited to make the announcement?`` she looked down at her belly as she wrung her hands. “I'm sure they will think you only married me… because I'm pregnant liam”, her eyes well up with unshed tears.Liam ran his thumbs along the outline of her eyes as he wiped away her tears. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Baby… I don't give a damn about anyone thinking that I married you because of the pregnancy.. We know the truth…”

Sexy cut off his words, “what if I'm one of those people that felt … had there been no baby, there would be marriage..to me at least. Liam I couldn't help but wonder had I not stayed in Cordonia, and you learned I was pregnant, would you have been married to madeline right now. What if I had gotten on that plane and left for New York, not finding out about the baby until much later.” Liam's heart broke . watching the woman he loved recount the darkest time in their relationship. He waited for her to unburden her pain, to know she had been carrying around this doubt. “Liam, i was never supposed to have you... your father made sure of that. I remember the feeling of so many eyes on me as the photo was plastered all over the news, feeling the harsh ,clammy hands of the guards as they removed me from that ballroom… during your moment.To be given an hour to gather my belongings under the watchful eyes of the kings guards, then to be ushered unceremoniously to the airport to be ejected from this country that i came to see as my future home.” Sexy’s breathing became labored as she recounted the night that gave her the greatest gift and the greatest abomination against their love.

“Shh, shh… please don't cry. I am so sorry … that I didn't fight for us soon enough. I regret that I stood by and did nothing as you suffered alone. Sexy just the thought of you spending weeks sick, sleepless night, racked with loneliness thinking that I love another and did not treasure the love we share. I am the man that should have taken our moment … the night of the coronation and chosen you publicly from the beginning to be my queen. After we confessed our love and made love in the maze…. I owed it to us to start our life , especially since I had told you that I wanted a future with you”, he hyperventilated seeing the visible emotional pain she was still reliving.

Sexy pulled back from his embrace, gathering her composure, sitting in silence for a moment, “Liam , I forgave you for your decision back then. I accepted that you didn't feel a profile in courage was in your purview. You did what was expected of you. I love you … that has never changed and never will until the die. I can never forgive your father , and the others that made a choice that I did not only deserve to be your queen, but i did not deserve to live. Had they gotten their way, had I walked a few steps slower… The day that I was to become your queen would have been the day you would be planning my funeral. I am trying so hard to count my blessings that were all okay, but the thought of almost… losing our child before they can even take a first breath.” Sexy shook with anger thinking of the possibility she could have lost her child. She didn't think about losing her life, but the life of their unborn child. “I know you want to make a big splash of an announcement to let the whole of Cordonia know about our baby… the heir. I never want to rob you of sharing such a tremendous gift that should be celebrated among all, but I know that it will become open season on the commoner that trapped a king into marriage after getting herself knocked up out of wedlock.”

“STOP… I will not listen to you berate yourself, talk down about yourself, disrespect the woman that you are. You never trapped me.. You did not get yourself knocked up as you put it. I fell in love with you … the first night I met you. I sought every opportunity to spend time with you. When we were not together, I counted the hours until the next time i was able to steal a moment with you. Sexy… know that when we made love it was one of the happiest days I shared with you. Everything that we shared in the past , and will share each day going forward will be 100% my choice and desire. Sexy I never want you to feel anything but love, and commitment with every iota of my soul. You .are .it for me. Your my every dream and to have that dream personified by a child is that much more fulfilling.”

Liam took Sexy out onto the balcony looking out over his mother’s vision and announced, “ We will announce of baby, because I am proud and I know that you love this little button as much as I do. He or she is nothing to be ashamed of. Just know that I am here with you every step of the way. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you… your wish is my command. The king serves only his queen. For you I will lay it all on the line. We will stand before our people and share with them news that will have them celebrating until you give birth and then on. We can do a one on one interview with Ana DeLuca, or make an announcement before all the press and people.”

Sexy wrapped her arms around liam's mid section and took a deep breath. “ Baby I know now how much we mean to you, so I will stand beside you as your queen and share our little button for the first time. Liam… I need to put all of this behind me. As long as there are loose ends out there that could come after me… i will not rest.” Sexy turned to walk inside to the bed and lay down. He could see the look of exhaustion on her face, she seemed worn out. “Sexy you need your rest… I will take care of this for us. The bastards that did this will pay… including my father. He will pay for the fresh hell he's brought upon us. My duty is to queen and my child.” Liam pulled the cashmere throw across Sexy as he watched her drift off to sleep with tension visible on her forehead. When he finally heard her soft breaths escaping her lips, he walked out to the living area when he heard a knock at the door.

Liam opened the door while gesturing to keep it down, “Bastien… is everything alright?”

“Sir .. I am sorry to disturb you and the queen, but I have news about the attack on your wedding day.”he paused awaiting a confirmation to proceed from his king. Liam acknowledged with a slight nod and curious look. “Go on…”

“Your majesty, the degenerate that carried out the former kings orders was not working alone. We were able to recover some history from the cell phone that was on his person when he was apprehended at the cathedral. We triangulated the ping off the towers and found that he messaged someone within the palace moments after the explosion. King Father was already in the church when the message was sent. The other person that was involved was here at the palace during the attack.He is trying to clam up with his cooperation.”, Bastien stated.

“Get him in an interrogation room asap.. This son of a bitch terrorized my wife on our wedding day. Every.single .person will be tried for treason. We will announce the pregnancy and then we will move forward with the council for formal charges. There will be no mercy…” Liam walked with Bastien to the door and they headed for his study to draw up formal charges to be presented to his council. “Bas… I failed her and it will not happen again. She feels that I didn’t fight for her…for us when it counted the most. It’s time to clean up this corruption for my queen and my child. I never wanted her to feel I am not all in and i will protect her. This. Ends . Tonight.”